#Rights are a tricksy thing

[gollancz]

I just stumbled into your beautiful editions and realized, you don't ship to the US?!? *sobbing* Love, love your Terry Pratchett covers.

Ah yes I'm sorry! Some books we can, but it all depends on the rights we managed to acquire. If we don't acquire US and Canadian rights, we legally can't distribute in North America, because those rights belong to someone else.

[neolithicsheep]

I've been meaning to write this down for some time because there are some fundamental errors that people keep making in crowdfunding/sales that shoot their campaigns in the foot. So here's a list of easy principles.

Who am I and why should you listen to me? I am a freelance chaos marketer who has raised well over $100,000 when totaling up various crowdfunding campaigns, mostly for aid to Afghanistan. In addition I've managed to successfully market everything from stuffed plush koalas to hydration salts. Why am I putting this out here for free? Because despite a years long track record of success in social media marketing no one will hire me because I don't have a college degree, so I might as well help people out who can't afford to hire full time marketing. 

If you'd like to hire me to help you evaluate your marketing and sales and teach you better skills on a 1 to 1 basis then hit me up, I am often willing to barter, esp with artists in a variety of mediums! 

Anyway on to HOW TO CONVINCE PEOPLE TO GIVE YOU MONEY:

TL;DR: use positive messaging that humanizes everyone involved and make it as easy as possible for people to give you money.

1. Shame and guilt are demotivators. They will not inspire people to give you money. “Why aren't people helping” “I guess people don't care” “This isn't getting enough shares/donations” etc etc. Online fundraising is often frustrating, heartbreaking, and will make you angry, especially when there's a humanitarian crisis involved. It is critical that if you are raising funds for someone else that you have a place to vent that is not the audience you would like to donate to the cause. 

2. Use motivating messages instead! “You can help!” “Even a small donation is important because it tells Recipient they're not alone, and people care” “We can't fix the whole world, but we can make this one thing right, and that means something”. Emphasize that this is a problem that the reader can help fix with even a small effort. With items for sale, tell a story. "I drew this thinking about how safe I always felt under a tree in my childhood backyard". "I chose the colors in this shawl to remind me of sagebrush and piñon pine in my favorite place."

3. Make it easy for people to give you money. Never talk about your product or cause without a link that leads directly to where people can give you money. They should be able to click one link on your post and land at the fundraiser or your shop. Every required click is going to lose people, so minimize the number of them required. This also means if you have a list of fundraisers for people to choose from the ones at the bottom will be neglected - people will hit the ones at the top. Be sure to take those off when they're met or periodically shuffle the list around to make sure everyone gets a chance to be in the first 5 spots. In online stores people will often only look at the first page or two of items so be sure to shuffle things around and remove out of stock items that are taking up prime real estate.

4. Humanize the recipient - this can be tricksy when raising charitable aid because you don't want to be exploitative. But to use my last Afghan campaign as an example, “We need to raise $500 for an Afghan family” is less effective than “This Afghan family's home was damaged in heavy rains that caused extensive flooding. They only need $500 to repair and rebuild so they can stay in their home and not become displaced.”  If possible, tell as much of the recipient's story as they consent to. Eg “Fred is seven and loves dinosaurs. His favorite is brontosaurus, and he carries a stuffed one with him everywhere. He wants to be a paleontologist when he grows up and discover a complete brontosaurus skeleton that he can give the same name as his stuffed friend. Unfortunately he's also a trans boy living in Texas and his family needs $1500 to rent a Uhaul and get to Colorado so he can grow up in safety and do that.”

5. If you're not the recipient, humanize yourself while you're at it! “I'd be really grateful if you all could share or donate” “This fundraiser really means a lot to me because…” “Thank you so much for any help, whether sharing or donating” 

6. Treat the audience like humans. Speak to them like they are people you're having a conversation with, not ATMs. This ultimately is the goal of not using shame/guilt and humanizing yourself and the recipient. 

7. Set low goals and bump them up when met. One of the weird things about people is they prefer to give to successful fundraisers. Yeah I don't know either. So you're more likely to get the full amount you need if you set a partial goal initially and then raise it when that's met. Raise it in small increments and raise it repeatedly as those goals are hit to keep momentum going. You can't always control this so if you're boosting someone else's fundraiser you can do it artificially via asks like “Hey y'all can we get together and put $500 on this?”

[smileysuh]

Love, Cupid

🌙 starring. Kim Mingyu x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.”

tw/cw. unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), pussy worship, love drunk Mingyu, fingering, big dick mingyu, pussy stretching, hand-holding during sex, Mingyu is somewhat subby/switchy, mainly missionary to accommodate for his wings, sensitive wings, hand job, mention of birth control, multiple reader orgasms, overstim, etc… I pet names: (his) big guy.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.4k

🍭 aus. mythical/roman/cupid au, soulmate au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. this man has me in a chokehold

Prologue - the accident

“I’m still not really sure why we needed a new cupid,” Mingyu confesses, toying with the elegantly curved, white bow in his hands. “But I guess if anyone is going to teach you how to do this, it should be me.”

It’s no secret that out of the twelve high council cupids, Mingyu is the one who is most obsessed with love. He lives, breathes and dreams of it. Every second of the immortal man’s life is dedicated to love, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Out of all of Venus’s children, Mingyu is the favorite, and he has no worries that training this new cupid will lead to competition in that regard. Chan seems nice enough, but Mingyu can already tell that the kid has a lot to learn when it comes to the duty of being a matchmaker.

“Our arrows are the most powerful weapon on earth,” Mingyu explains, hovering with his new younger brother over the busy city street. They each have large angelic wings that keep them aloft, and extra cupid magic makes it so they’re invisible to the human eye. Mingyu’s favorite place to people-watch is from the sky, it gives him a bird’s eye view, and an easy way to trail his targets without anything getting in the way. 

“I thought Jupiter’s lightning bolt was the most powerful weapon on earth,” Chan muses.

“It’s not.”

“Neptune’s trident then.”

Mingyu lets out a deep sigh. “Are you here to learn or not?”

“I just want you to explain it to me. How is your bow and arrow the most powerful weapon?” Chan acts as if he’s just looking for information, but Mingyu gets the sneaking suspicion that the young cupid is toying with him. He seems to be cut from the same cloth as the likes of Jeonghan and Soonyoung, who identify as more mischievous and tricksy than most deities supposedly enamored with love.

“Love is the most powerful thing on Earth,” Mingyu states, “and our tools are the makers of love, for humans anyways. Do you know how many wars were started in the name of love? How many people have died for love? Love is the most important and powerful emotion. Without it, humanity has nothing.” 

“I’m still not sure I agree with you on this,” Chan sighs.

“You don’t have to agree with me, because I’m right, and I know I’m right. Now shut up and watch,” Mingyu shushes the younger cupid, pointing at the street below. “Do you see that human?”

Chan flies closer to Mingyu, angling his head toward the elder cupid’s large bicep, looking down his arm to the point of his finger. “The pretty girl?”

“Yes, exactly! Her!” 

“Are we going to shoot her?”

“Yes, but we can’t just shoot her randomly- when we shoot her, she’ll fall in love with the first person she sees- the first person she looks at, and we can’t have her falling in love with just anyone on the street. That would be very irresponsible of us. Once shot, a soul connection forms- our arrows can never miss, and they can never be shot nonchalantly.”

“Or what?”

“Or it would be very, very bad, and as I said, irresponsible, and just… not good. Our job is to find a good match for as many humans as possible, and we can do this by looking at their auras. You see how her aura is pink?” God, Mingyu loves looking at your aura. You’ve got one of the prettiest auras he’s ever seen, and Mingyu’s been around for an extremely long time. “Each aura means something different. Pink souls are romantics, they’re soft. Pinks do best with other pinks, other pinks make them the most fulfilled. They can also manage a red, as they’ll draw on each other’s mutual passions. White auras are also suitable for pinks.”

“Yeah, I know about arua colour.,” Chan rolls his eyes. “Blues work best with blues, they can also do well with greens or purples. Greens do best with yellows, greens or blues. Purple does blue or red. I’m not in primary school.” 

Mingyu has no clue how old the new cupid is. It’s a very human joke to make- mentioning primary school. Cupids are born, sure, but they age differently than humans, faster. Mingyu supposes that as the newest cupid, maybe Chan is a representation of the times- but if he starts bringing out Gen Z humor and saying things like “this is lit” while shooting his marks, Mingyu might just have a heart attack.

“These days, pink can be a rare aura to find in men,” Mingyu admits. “I’ve considered a few red auras for her- but she’s so soft, I wouldn’t want her to be overwhelmed. Reds are prone to anger, and a pink can soften them out, but a red aura will always be red, and I don’t think I want that for her.”

“Are you always this wrapped up in the matches you make?” Chan asks. “This shit seems easy- I see an orange aura, I match them with an orange, yellow, or red. I see a pink, I match her with a pink, white or red. It’s not that serious.”

“How could it be anything but serious!?” Mingyu groans. “I told you, our arrow is the most dangerous weapon in the world- you can’t just go around shooting people randomly!”

“But you haven’t actually explained what would happen if I did,” the new cupid points out.

“I told you, it’s irresponsible.”

“Yeah, but what does that mean?”

“It means bad things would happen!”

“Bad things like what, though?”

Mingyu loves love. He’s a soft cupid. But for the love of Venus, he’s beginning to want to strangle Chan. 

Instead of answering, Mingyu’s gaze finds you again. Chan doesn’t have to take this seriously, Mingyu’s on a mission to find you a soulmate, and he’ll stop at nothing-

“Ouch!” Mingyu flinches, tearing his eyes from you and grabbing at his arm, where an arrow is protruding from his bicep. The cupid’s jaw drops, and he looks to the younger mischief maker.

“Oops?” Chan shrugs.

“Why did you do that!?” Mingyu screams, tearing the arrow out and covering the wound before it begins to drip his golden immortal blood. 

“I wanted to see what would happen if I randomly shot a couple without doing research. She’s pink. You’re the pinkest soul I’ve ever even seen- it’s a good match, no?” Chan grins. “Like… what’s the worst that could happen?”

Mingyu can’t even speak. He can’t find the words. 

Never, in the history of the world - as far as Mingyu knows it - has one cupid shot another, let alone with the intention of binding their soul to a mortal’s. 

But to be completely fair, Mingyu can’t even find it within himself to be mad at Chan. For one, he should have never given the new cupid his own bow and arrow, and maybe more importantly- Chan might have been right in binding the two of you. Because holy shit, you’ve got the prettiest soul Mingyu’s ever seen, and he’s been hesitant to match you up with someone, worried they’d be unworthy-

What’s a better fit for your pretty pink aura than his own vibrant magenta self?

One - the cupid council 

“And then…” Mingyu looks around at the council of Cupids, taking a deep breath as he gets to the climax of the report, “Chan shot me.”

“He shot you?” Seungcheol grins, adjusting in his golden throne as he looks at the two immortals in the center of the room.

“With an arrow,” Mingyu clarifies. “Yeah.”

The eldest cupid stifles laughter, lifting a hand to half cover his mouth as he giggles and looks around at the others. Jeonghan meets the eldest’s gaze, also grinning. There are mixed reactions from others, and it’s Soonyoung of all people who stands up as if this whole thing is blasphemy, declaring, “Take the kid’s arrows away!”

“Why did this kid even get made,” Jihoon groans, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

“Hey!” Chan declares, offended at the notion of him being a useless creation from their godly mother. 

“Seungkwan,” Seungcheol waves a hand, “take his arrows away.”

“Wait, no, I earned these!” Chan holds his bow and quiver close to his chest, hiding behind Mingyu when one of the other cupids gets closer to relieve him of his weapons. 

“You shot an elder cupid,” Seungcheol says dismissively. “How does that count as earning your bow and arrow, or for that matter, your wings.” The eldest eyes the small white protrusions that flutter behind Chan, who shudders at the idea of them being taken away along with his cupid tools.

“Okay, everyone relax,” Jeonghan sighs, standing from his throne to address the room. “This isn’t Chan’s fault. I’d heard Mingyu was having trouble with a mark, being indecisive- and I wasn’t the only one who heard about it. This instruction came from Mother herself. Chan was just following orders. He has earned his bow and arrow, as well as his wings.”

“This order came from Mother?” Seungcheol sits up in his chair, jaw-dropping.

Venus is generally very hands-off with her sons. The idea that she’d heard about Mingyu’s predicament, and stepped in with an idea like this- well, it’s completely abnormal, and it’s clear that everyone on the cupid council is shocked by the revelation. 

“She said something along the lines of… ‘Mingyu loves love, and it’s time he experiences it for himself.’” Jeonghan waves a hand nonchalantly, as if this is an everyday occurrence. 

“What were you doing with Mother?” Wonwoo asks, and it’s clear in his tone that he’s not entirely trusting of the elder, more mischievous cupid.

“She has favorites, you know,” Jeonghan grins. “To Mingyu, she gifted love, to me, she gifted the role of messenger.” 

“That’s some gift,” Seungcheol scoffs, but Mingyu gets the sense that Seungcheol wishes he’d been the one chosen to be privy to this information. “So Mother wants Mingyu to do what? Seduce a human?”

“Like it will be hard?” Jeonghan lets out a barking laugh. “This is our Mingyu we’re talking about. If anyone can seduce a human, it’s him.”

Two - the first meet

“Ok, but what if you shoot her too?” Mingyu suggests as he and Chan follow you from a distance, flying through the clear evening sky while you head home from work.

“Why don’t you shoot her?” Chan retorts.

“Jeeze,” Mingyu rolls his eyes at the newness of his sidekick. “You shot me, so I’m bonded to her now, which means only you can make her second connection. It’s a rule to make sure cupids don’t get in each other’s way. You shot me to fall for her, and if I shot her to fall for anyone else, that would lead to unrequited love, which isn’t fun for anyone.”

“A rule? What would happen if you tried to shoot her though? I mean, unless you and all the other cupids constantly communicate about your marks, there’s no way to know which human belongs to which cupid, is there?”

“What’s with you and breaking rules?” Mingyu sighs, rubbing at his temples. “Listen, I’m not testing fate again… also, most cities are split into small zones. Cupids stick to their zones.”

“Humans don’t though,” Chan points out.

“I’m not talking about this with you anymore.”

“Okay, suit yourself.”

“So will you shoot her for me?”

“Mmmm,” Chan makes a face. “I don’t think so.”

“What?!” Mingyu stops flying, staring at the cupid that he’s supposed to be training. “But… but I’m your teacher, and I’m telling you to shoot her for me!”

“That would be too easy though, right?” Chan flashes a grin. “Plus- that would be an abuse of power, Mingyu. You’re in love with her now, so telling me to force her to fall for you isn’t very fair, now is it?” 

“I-” Mingyu bites at his tongue. He hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well… we know I’m best for her. It wouldn’t be an abuse because we know I’ll treat her right.”

“The thing is…” Chan lets out a yawn, “I’m still not convinced.”

“So you expect me to just go and talk to her?”

“Yeah?” The younger cupid shrugs. “You’re supposed to be some sex god, aren’t you?”

“No one’s ever called me that…” Mingyu can feel his skin heating at the notion. “I’m a love cupid, not a sex god.”

“Same thing,” Chan scoffs. “Just go talk to her. Come on, follow me.” He takes a nose dive, approaching the ground at a speed that makes Mingyu worry for his safety- only for Chan to land like a pro, waving at him to hurry up.

With a groan, Mingyu follows the younger cupid, his feet touching down onto the pavement of the crowded street.

“You can’t go talk to her looking like this,” Chan explains, looking Mingyu up and down.

As immortal beings, they’re impervious to the temperatures of the evening. Dressed in a cream-coloured toga, Mingyu stands out amongst the jackets and hats worn to protect human skin from the cold. “Give me a sec,” Mingyu sighs, using some cupid magic to transform his outward appearance, conjuring an outfit he thinks might draw you in. “How’s this?”

“A suit? Seriously?” Chan rolls his eyes.

“Suits are in!” Mingyu insists.

“Yeah, if you want to look like a sugar daddy.”

“Maybe she wants a sugar daddy?” Mingyu suggests.

“Aren’t you supposed to be some human expert? She’s a pink soul, Mingyu, how many pink souls really value money over personality?”

“So you know more about humans than I do now?” Mingyu can’t believe what he’s hearing out of his ward’s mouth.

“I think love is blinding you, dude,” Chan says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s expensive silk tie. “You’re pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“I’m rich,” Mingyu insists. 

“Sure, but you’re not a sugar daddy, you’re a cupid.”

Mingyu scoffs. “So what would you want me to wear?” 

“Blue jeans, maybe a hoodie, something that screams ‘make me your boyfriend.’”

Mingyu has to concede that Chan might be onto something, but he refuses to admit it out loud. In fact, Mingyu buries deeper into his conviction that you’ll like the suit. “This outfit is staying,” he states.

“Fine,” Chan shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

With one final grin and giggle at his own double entendre, Chan pushes Mingyu roughly, causing him to fall back and bump directly into you. The rough contact jolts Mingyu into a corporeal form, putting him fully into your visibility as you steady yourself and blink up at him.

“Oh, uh… excuse me?” You’re a little stunned- but Mingyu supposes that's what happens when a man appears out of thin air. 

“No, that was my fault,” Mingyu assures you quickly. “I uh… two left feet.”

“Right…” You look down, then back up at Mingyu, giving him a soft smile before stepping past him to continue on with your night.

Mingyu watches you in shock, then he pulls himself out of it, rushing to follow you. “I uh- I should make it up to you!”

“Don’t worry about it,” you wave a hand.

“But I do worry about it,” Mingyu insists, putting himself in front of you this time. “Here,” he conjures a flower from behind his back, holding it out to you, “Something to say sorry.”

You stop, staring up at him and then down at the rose. “You just happen to have that?” you ask quizically. “Were you trying to bump into me or something?”

“No, I just had the flower.” Mingyu would be sweating if he was a being who could sweat.

“Sure you did,” you laugh. “Look, I’m sure whatever girl you actually had that flower for would like it more than me.”

“I swear, it’s for you- look, forget the flower,” Mingyu tosses it onto the ground. “There must be some way I can make this up to you.”

“Dude, you bumped into me on the street, we’re good.” 

Mingyu doesn’t know what else to say, so he simply says, “Please?”

You let out a sigh. “If I give you my number, will you let this go?”

“Uh huh.”

“Do you have a pen?” 

Mingyu conjures one in his pocket, pulling it out to give it to you. When you take the pen, you grab his wrist, pulling his palm close so you can scrawl across it. 

The cupid watches your every action, etching it into his memory. You’re so lovely, your pretty pink aura wrapped around you like a warm halo. When he takes in a deep breath, he can smell the touch of roses in the air, a lover-girl scent-

“There,” you sigh, releasing his hand. “Now I really have somewhere to be.”

“Okay,” Mingyu murmurs, holding his palm close. “Have a good night.”

“You too, big guy,” you say, laughing to yourself as you brush past him.

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize he never got your name and vice versa. He’s tempted to rush after you, only for a hand to clap down on his shoulder.

“Dude,” Chan grins, “that was embarrassing to watch. You have like, zero rizz.”

Three - the date

Mingyu is doing his best. He’d texted you a safe amount to plan your date. He’d picked you up in an expensive car, held doors open for you, and now, you’re eating at one of the most expensive restaurants in the city.

Even so, Mingyu can tell that something is off with you. As you pick at the appetizer, Mingyu finally gets the courage to ask what’s wrong.

“You want the honest truth?” you laugh, leaning back in your chair.

“Always.” Mingyu puts down his fork and knife, focusing on you completely.

“I’m thankful for the date,” you start. “Taking me somewhere nice is really sweet of you and everything, it’s just… I don’t know. I think lots of men these days think all girls want is money. As nice as this is- as nice as your car is, and this restaurant, I don’t think I’m the kind of girl that fits with this vibe.”

“You’re not?”

You shake your head. “You’re clearly a guy that’s well off, and I’m happy for you about that, but… I feel like when guys take me to nice places, they always expect something in return. There’s this expectation that when money gets put down, the girl has to put out too, just… in other ways.”

“Other ways? Like what?”

You scoff, giving him a look. “You know what other ways.”

Except Mingyu doesn’t know, because he’s never actually been on a date, especially not with a human. He has no idea what sort of expectations are normal, especially in your mundane world. As a cupid, he sets up the matches, but he doesn’t really follow along with the journey and see what his marks get up to after being shot with his arrow. 

“Can I be honest too?” Mingyu asks after a moment of contemplation.

“Of course.”

“I uh…” He picks his words carefully. “I don’t really date often. So… whatever expectations you think I might have, just know that I don’t have any. I just want to get to know you. That’s it. I promise.”

You stare at him, and Mingyu gets lost in your eyes. He’s more than happy to wait patiently while you think of a response, it gives him time to appreciate your beautiful form-

“You’re serious?” you ask finally.

“Uh huh,” Mingyu nods. “You seem surprised.”

“I just... You’re all handsome and dressed well, and you have a nice car, and you’ve obviously got money- I just sort of assumed you were a sugar daddy or something. Someone used to taking girls out.”

Mingyu hates the use of the term ‘sugar daddy.’ It’s clear to him that Chan was right about the vibes of his clothing choices, and the cupid will admit that the car he conjured was maybe a tad too fancy. He’s been going about this all wrong, putting up a facade, creating a version of himself that he thought you would like.

Maybe Mingyu truly doesn’t know anything about you. He just hopes this misstep isn't enough to drive you away. 

“I’ve been single a long time,” Mingyu admits. “I guess, maybe I got wrapped up in doing the things I thought you would like. I figured most girls like to be wined and dined, but I never really asked you what you wanted to do. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Can we start over?” Mingyu suggests.

You smile softly, nodding.

Mingyu thinks about it for a moment before he comes up with a question that he thinks could redirect this whole situation for the better. “If I could go back, and let you choose what type of date this would be, what would we have ended up doing?”

“I find that first dates where we can walk around and see stuff together are kind of nice,” you admit. “Formal things like this, face to face, over food- they kind of make me anxious. And lulls in the conversation are more obvious.”

You’re very right about that. Every long moment of silence has made Mingyu’s heart race, and he’s rushed to fill it with surface-level questions that never seemed to hit their mark. It’s interesting that he’s learning about dating from you. 

Mingyu has never realized how little he actually knows about the rituals of love.

“How do you feel about me covering the bill for our drinks and appetizer, then we can get out of here?” Mingyu suggests. 

“You don’t want dinner?”

“If you want food, I’ll get you food,” he tells you, “but it sounds like you’d rather be on a walk, so let's go for a walk.”

You offer him another soft smile, and Mingyu can see the way your pink aura flutters with interest. It’s the first time you’ve really glowed for him tonight, so he knows he’s headed in the right direction with this line of thought.

“A walk would be perfect.”

Half an hour later, the two of you are walking side by side through one of the small city parks. 

You were right about the awkward pauses disappearing. Conversation is flowing steadily, and Mingyu couldn’t be happier. You tell him about your job, your friends, the things you do that make you happy, hobbies that have stuck with you since you were younger. 

Mingyu is practically overflowing with questions now, and every response you give him is committed to memory. 

“It’s such a nice night,” you say wistfully, pausing to look up at the sky, which is visible through a clearing in the tree canopy.

“It is,” Mingyu agrees, taking a deep breath and simply enjoying the moment.

That’s when a familiar cupid flies across his view, and Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest. 

“Should we sit down somewhere?” Mingyu asks, looking at a bench a short distance away. It’s next to a large Oak, and Mingyu hopes that the leaf foliage can give him some privacy with you, away from any curious eyes.

You nod, gently grabbing onto his arm as you begin to walk.

Mingyu’s breath catches at the contact, a jolt of energy running through his entire form. He can feel his heart lurching again, but this is a much more pleasant feeling than before. His throat is dry, and he swallows thickly to clear it, skin heating into something like a blush.

He’s happy you’re not seated across from each other in some stuffy restaurant. With the low light of street lamps that line the walkway, there’s no way you’ll be able to see the flush of his skin. As much as Mingyu is a love cupid, he doesn’t want it to be too obvious that he’s enraptured with you.

He’s terrified that anything he does could scare you off, and he’d hate himself if that ever happened. 

“Anyways,” you sigh as the two of you sit down, “enough about me, what about you?”

“Hmm?” Mingyu shuffles, turning to look at you only to find that you’ve angled your body toward him, your gaze fixed on his profile.

“What do you do for work?”

“Uh…” Mingyu doesn’t want to lie to you, but he can’t tell you the full truth either. “I’m a matchmaker, actually.”

“A matchmaker?” you repeat, surprise evident in the tone of your voice.

“Yeah. I set people up.”

“I didn’t know that was an actual job.”

“There’s lots of Korean Ajummas who want to set up their daughters or relatives with good men,” Mingyu explains, opting for a white lie. 

“I see,” you nod. “A matchmaker who doesn’t date.”

“Yeah…” Mingyu clears his throat again. “Would you believe me if I said I’m pretty good at my job?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “What makes you good at your job? If not experience in the dating arena.”

“I think I’ve just always been someone who reads people. Matching is in my blood- although, after my mess up on reading you, I’m starting to wonder how successful I’ve actually been.”

“You didn’t mess up that badly,” you assure him. “And when given the opportunity to correct your misread, you did. I’m having a really good time with you now that we’re on a walk.”

“You are?” Mingyu feels like jumping up and celebrating, but he holds himself down to earth. “I’m uh, I’m having a really good time with you too.”

Instead of responding, you simply lean your head onto his shoulder, letting out a deep sigh of contentment. 

The cupid holds very still, not wanting to move a muscle in the fear that you’ll pull away.

“Do you have any family?” you ask.

“A few brothers,” Mingyu responds.

“Are you close?”

Mingyu laughs. “With some.”

“Family can be an interesting experience,” you muse.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Mingyu admits, looking out at the dark field in front of you, where Chan does another fly-by. 

 “I hate to say this, but I have an early morning work thing,” you sigh. “I should probably be getting home.”

“Wanna go back to my car at the restaurant? I can drive you.”

“My place actually isn’t that far from here, I was thinking I might just walk… but then again,” you let out a laugh, “these heels are kind of killing my feet.”

“What if I carry you home?”

You pull away from his shoulder, giving him a doubtful look.

“You don’t think I can carry you?” Mingyu asks in shock.

“It’s not that-”

“Come on,” Mingyu gets to his feet. “Get on my back,  it will be fun, I promise.”

You give him another unsure look, but finally you stand too. Mingyu turns around, bending so you can jump onto his back. The moment you’re pressed against him, he feels like he’s in heaven. He can feel your breath along the back of his neck, and it sets every inch of him on fire.

“Hold on,” he tells you, enjoying the way you wrap your grip tighter around his broad shoulders, locking your fingers together by his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you admit with a shaky laugh.

“You trusted me,” Mingyu says, “and I’m not going to let you down… until we get to your apartment.”

You giggle again, and the sound is music to his ears. 

“You’re crazy,” you tell him, and yet, your aura is buzzing so bright it nearly envelopes Mingyu with how tightly you’re pressed together.

“Something tells me you don’t mind.”

Four - the fuck up

“You know what you said about zones the other day?” Chan asks while he and Mingyu sit on the ledge of a tall building, looking down at the humans below.

“Yeah?”

“You said that cupids stick to their zones, right?”

“Yup.” Mingyu’s so annoyed by Chan he could scream. They’re supposed to be looking at auras, looking for a target for the day, but Chan’s head is off in the clouds-

“Okay, I just wanted to be sure.”

Mingyu lets out a deep breath, turning to look at Chan. “What was the point of those questions?”

“Just that… well, that’s Seokmin, isn’t it?” Chan points, and Mingyu follows his line of sight. Low and behold, Seokmin is flying two city blocks away, and it looks like he’s trailing something.

“We’re on the zone border,” Mingyu explains, but as he gets a bearing for the auras below, one stands out to him. “Shit.” 

“I didn’t know you could cuss, grandpa,” Chan laughs, but Mingyu’s already pushing off from the ledge, his large wings unfurrowing so they can beat at the air, carrying him quickly toward the other cupid, leaving Chan in his dust. “Wait! Slow down!”

But Mingyu can’t slow down, because if he’s correct, it looks like Seokmin is trailing a very familiar pink aura that weaves amongst the muted people below. 

Mingyu’s wings are large. They’re the largest of any of the cupids, and yet, as Seokmin draws his arrow, it’s clear that Mingyu’s superior size and speed won’t help him make it to his brother in time.

“Seokmin!” he yells, catching the man’s attention just as he lets his arrow fly.

Mingyu comes to a halt in the air, breath caught as he watches the arrow. It feels like everything is in slow motion, the arrow speeding through the sky toward you-

But then, it’s as if the arrow hits your aura and the pink hue acts as some sort of protective shield. The arrow falls to the ground, bursting into flower petals that melt away into the sidewalk.

“What the fuck?” Chan has caught up to Mingyu, and his words ring true to the situation. “Did Seokmin’s arrow just miss?”

“My arrows never miss!” Seokmin insists, fluttering over. 

“But that one did,” Chan points out.

Seokmin’s eyes are wide with shock. “It didn’t! It was going to hit her!”  

Chan rolls his eyes. “But it didn’t hit her!” 

Mingyu can’t even speak. His gaze is fixed on you. The arrow missed, but you’ve come to a stop in your tracks, as if you could sense the close call you’d just somehow evaded. 

“What are you two doing here anyways?” Seokmin glares. “You distracted me.”

“That’s Mingyu’s girl,” Chan responds nonchalantly.

“Who is?”

“The chick you just tried to shoot!” 

Mingyu respects that Chan is getting so worked up about this, it’s kind of like the new cupid is trying to protect Mingyu and his love life endeavors. 

“Wait, that’s the girl Mingyu likes?!” Seokmin bellows.

“That’s the girl he loves!” Chan insists. 

“Can you both just- be quiet for a minute!?” Mingyu can’t deal with their arguing anymore, not when you’re so much more interesting.

He watches you pull out your phone-

“Do arrows even work on her?” Chan asks. “We all saw that right? It like… bounced off her aura?”

“They should work on everyone,” Seokmin responds quietly. “I mean, your arrow worked on Mingyu, for Venus’s sake.”

Mingyu’s phone rings in his pocket, the pocket he’d had conjured into his toga just to hold a line of communication with you. The other cupids turn to watch Mingyu as he lifts the human device to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey you.” Your voice is a little off. “You busy?”

“No,” Mingyu blurts out dumbly.

“Okay, good. Uh… I wasn’t sure if I should call or text-”

“Calling is good,” he assures you.

“That’s good to know.” You let out a small laugh, tucking in closer to the building and away from the busy street traffic. “It’s the weirdest thing, but you just popped into my mind. I guess, usually I let guys ask me out for a second date, and it’s only been two days since I saw you last, but I sort of just thought fuck it, I’d call you.”

Mingyu doesn’t even know how to respond. His mind is running a million miles a minute. 

“Mingyu?” you ask. “Are you still there?”

“Sorry, yeah.”

“So… do you want to see each other again?”

“Absolutely.” 

“Good!” 

Even from a distance, Mingyu can see the way you light up, the way your aura twinkles with pretty pinks and magentas. “When… when are you free?” he asks, dazzled dumb by your beauty.

“This sounds crazy, and I get it if you’re busy, but… are you around?”

“Yeah?”

“Could we meet in an hour?”

“Yeah, I’ll uh…” Mingyu has to physically give his head a shake to speak coherently, “I’ll come pick you up.”

“Can’t wait,” you smile. “Bye, Gyu.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, but Mingyu still feels frozen. It takes a moment before he’s able to pocket his phone.

“Dude, you’re still so lame when you speak to her,” Chan muses, nudging his mentor with a grin.

“We just watched her somehow block a cupid’s arrow,” Mingyu snaps, “excuse me for needing a minute.”

“Mingyu?” This time it’s Seokmin speaking, and Mingyu hates the way he immediately flashes a glare at his brother. “Sorry, it’s just… what’s that on your wrist?”

Five - the red string

Mingyu can’t seem to take his eyes off the red string around his wrist. He picks at the fine threads as he waits in his car for you to come down from your apartment. In fact, he’s so focused on the mysterious new bracelet that he forgets to get out of the vehicle to open your door for you.

When you open your own door it causes him to jump, heart lurching in fright- then he remembers where he is, and he’s quick to pull the sleeve of his sweater down, hiding the red string. “Hi,” he says, forcing a smile.

“You okay? I didn’t scare you, did I?” you grin, getting into the car.

“Sorry, I was just lost in thought. Where, uh… where do you wanna go today?”

“Well, I was going to let you choose, but I didn’t want to end up in a fancy restaurant again, so I was thinking something simple like coffee?”

“Coffee sounds nice,” Mingyu admits. “Any specific place you like?”

“There’s a cafe by the park we were at last time, I’ll give you directions.” You reach over, gently squeezing his thigh. “It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” he smiles, and this time, it’s not forced at all.

You make it to the cafe. After you order, Mingyu pays, and soon, the two of you are sitting in a cute little secluded booth in the corner. As you tell him about your day, Mingyu watches you take your jacket off. He admires your choice of clothes, the way the colours compliment your skin tone and the pretty pink aura you can’t even see. 

When you settle and reach for your tea, Mingyu notices something around your wrist, and he nearly chokes on his coffee. 

“You good?” you laugh, reaching out to touch his hand.

“Yeah.” Mingyu steadies himself. “Uh- what’s that red thread bracelet? I didn’t notice that on our last date.”

“Oh, this?” you look down at your wrist, lifting it a little. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Trust me,” the cupid laughs, “nothing you say could ever make me think you’re crazy.”

You give him an assessing look, but finally give in with a sigh. “Okay, so basically, one of my close friends is a witch.”

“A witch?” 

“Still think I’m not crazy?”

“You’re not crazy, but I haven’t met this friend yet,” Mingyu teases.

“Anyways,” you take a deep breath, “she prays to Venus, and she swears on her life that Venus helped her meet her fiance. We had a bachelorette party about a week ago and she got all us bridesmaids these ‘Red Strings of Fate.’ It’s supposed to help us meet our own soulmates, or so she says.”

“Huh,” Mingyu sits back, resting his hands on the table. “I’ve never heard about ‘Red Strings of Fate.’” 

“Really? But… I mean,” your gaze dips down, “you’re wearing one too?”

Mingyu’s heart lurches, and he looks at his wrist, where the mysterious red string had appeared an hour ago. “Right…”

“Did you not know about that when you bought it? Or…?” You cock your head to the side, letting out a small laugh. “Honestly, when I saw you playing with that in the car when you picked me up, I’d kind of thought you’d gotten it to match mine.”

“I seriously didn’t even notice you had yours when we were on our last date,” Mingyu admits.

“Hmm…” Mingyu can see a glimmer of something behind your eyes, and then you grin broadly. “I guess maybe it’s just fate, huh?”

“Maybe,” Mingyu laughs.

“Where did you even gets yours?”

“It just kind of appeared,” Mingyu says honestly, only realizing what he’s said as the words leave his mouth.

“It just kind of appeared,” you repeat, looking very skeptical. Even so, you don’t question it, you simply lean back, your aura shimmering. “Guess it really is fate.”

Mingyu can’t even come up with anything else to say, so he takes a sip of his coffee.

“Listen…” you drum your fingers gently against the table, “I’ve been meaning to find a date for Luna’s wedding, but it can be hard to just run into someone you want to take to something like that. Then we quite literally ran into each other on the street, and now this whole string thing… if it’s not to soon, or too last minute, if you’d want to come to the wedding next week with me, I’d really appreciate the plus one.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu can’t believe his luck, can’t believe the cute determined set of your lips when you nod in the affirmative. “I’d love to go to this witch wedding with you.”

“As long as you don’t call her a witch to her face,” you laugh. “I think she prefers the term wicca.”

Mingyu makes a cross over his heart. “I won’t do anything to mess it up, I promise.”

Six - the consensus

The council is silent after Seokmin and Mingyu’s testaments on the oddities related to you. The younger cupids look to the elders to come up with a consensus, and Seungcheol is the first to finally speak. 

“An arrow that didn’t strike, a red string, and a girl who thinks she’s a witch.” He lets out a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the mess, Mingyu.”

Mingyu stays quiet, looking at his feet as he stands in the center of the council room, Seokmin and Chan on either side of him. 

For a new cupid who stands up to his mentor all the time, Chan is being oddly quiet today. He hasn’t said a word, not even when Seokmin and Mingyu were recounting the story of how your aura had seemingly repelled an arrow. Chan’s nervousness is making Mingyu even more anxious, although he’s not sure what he has to be anxious about.

“While I’m certain we all appreciate the report,” Jeonghan says, “this union between Mingyu and his human is ordained by Mother. There’s no use discussing this further.”

“She avoided an arrow. Aren’t you the least bit curious about how a mortal did that?” Wonwoo asks, leaning forward in his chair. It’s not usual for Wonwoo to speak, and the fact that he’s found this story of interest makes Mingyu’s skin tingle with more worry. 

Jeonghan makes a face, shaking his head. “No.” 

“I’m more focused on this witch,” Jihoon admits, trailing his fingers along his jaw. “Magic isn’t anything new, but I wonder if this friend’s ‘connection to Venus’ is what made our mother step in.”

“I’ve never heard of a ‘red string of fate,’” Soonyoung adds. “This all seems very suspicious. Chan, what do you think?”

Chan fidgets next to Mingyu. “Uh… me?”

“No, the other cupid named Chan.” Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Yes, you!” 

“What do I think about what?” Chan asks dumbly.

Seungcheol sighs, Jeonghan snickers, and other cupids simply seem amused by the new cupid. 

“What do you think about all of this?” Soonyoung clarifies. “New age Venus witches and strings of fate?”

“I think…” Chan swallows, looking over at Mingyu. When he speaks again, Chan’s voice has gained confidence, and he squares his shoulders. “I think that this whole thing started when Jeonghan gave me mother’s directions to pair Mingyu up with the girl he’d been trying to match for a while. But even if I hadn’t been directed to do it, when I look at Mingyu and the human, their auras just match. I’ve never seen an aura like hers. The only aura close to it in colour is Mingyu’s. I don’t know anything about red strings of fate or witches, but I do know that nothing bad could come out of a match like this one. Or at least, that’s what my heart is telling me.”

The council is silent while they process the new cupid’s words. Mingyu can feel a warmth spreading through his chest. For a dude who’s been nothing but an annoyance and hindrance so far, Chan is growing on Mingyu.

“Chan’s right,” Seokmin says. “Her aura is just like Mingyu’s. If anyone deserves a chance to fall in love, it’s them.”

“When did you all become so sentimental,” Jihoon groans, but there’s something of a smirk under his unamused expression.

“Seokmin,” Seungcheol’s voice draws all eyes, “since you dragged yourself into this, I want you to go with Chan and Mingyu to the wedding. I trust your opinion more than Chan’s. And Mingyu, see what information you can get from the witch. Even if this is all orchestrated by mother, I want to know the ins and outs of what power this wicca believes she has.”

Seven - the witch’s wedding

Mingyu hadn’t realized that being a plus one to someone in the wedding party meant that he’d be sitting alone in the venue while waiting for the bride to walk down the aisle. He doesn’t know anyone here except for Chan and Seokmin, who are floating around eying up the singletons. Mingyu had made them promise not to shoot too many people today, but there’s already been two meet-cutes and successful matches.

The love cupid is somewhat jealous of his brothers’ ability to work, their ability to form attachments while he’s made to sit and wait. To clear his mind, he fidgets with the red string on his wrist, hidden under his suit.

The red string has become somewhat of a soothing mechanism for the cupid. It feels tangible, in an odd sort of way. He enjoys the feeling as he gently drags it across his skin, looping it over and over again-

Music begins to play through the speakers, guests turn in their seats. A young flower girl walks up the aisle, the petals she’s tossing match the soft pink dress she’s wearing, and the tie around Mingyu’s neck. You’d shown up with the fabric when he’d come to pick you up, bashfully asking him if he wanted to match with you and the bridal party. 

It was a small exchange, but it had meant the world to Mingyu. He loves the fact that he’s matching with you and your friends, loves the fact that the bride had chosen soft pink as one of the color themes. 

After the flower girl, the bridesmaids begin to file in, arm in arm with groomsmen. Mingyu studies the auras, noting that many of the people in the party have pink tones to match their outfits. He likes seeing so many pinks in one area, it’s no wonder you talk so highly of your friends, you’re all pieces torn from the same cloth. Like him.

You step into view, and Mingyu can feel his heart beginning to race. You look stunning today, even more so than usual. The joy you feel radiates off of you, illuminating your aura with shimmery glitter. 

When you walk by, you meet Mingyu’s gaze, and he feels his grin widening. All the waiting has been worth it if even for that one smile, the brief eye contact-

Venus, he loves you.

Everyone stands when the bride enters. She’s dressed in a white laced gown, with flowers in her hair, and pretty rose quartz jewelry. There’s definitely something different about her, a richness and vibrancy to her aura that screams power. 

To Mingyu’s surprise, the bride meets his eyes as she walks past, offering a small tilt to her head before she continues up the aisle. 

Mingyu thinks about the small motion from the bride throughout the ceremony. 

He hasn’t met a real witch since the dark ages. People with a true connection to the gods are few and far in between these days. Mingyu wonders what kind of power your friend holds, and what it means in regard to him and the other cupids floating around.

Even with all these wonderings, Mingyu focuses on the example of love set before him. He listens to the vows, and the grandma next to him offers him tissues to wipe away his tears. The first kiss as man and wife makes Mingyu want to cheer with joy, his heart practically exploding in his chest.

He loves love. 

When the bride and groom exit, you stand by the podium, explaining that the reception will take place in a venue two doors down from the ceremony hall. Mingyu watches you hurry out after the bride before he slowly dispurses with the rest of the guests, the kind grandma who had given him tissues latched to his arm for support.

He’s unsure of himself when he reaches the reception. There’s an entryway station that details table arrangements. “What’s your name dear?” the grandma next to him asks, adjusting some glasses on the tip of her nose.

“I don’t think I’m on the list,” Mingyu admits, scanning the seating cards. 

He tells the old woman your name and she gives him an amused look. “A plus one to the bridal party,” she nods. “Table one.”

“And where are you seated?” the cupid asks. “I’ll help you there.”

After doing his duty with the old woman, Mingyu finds himself at a table full of pink-souled love birds. They’re all gushing about the ceremony, and are more than happy to welcome the cupid into the discussion. Mingyu’s never felt so immediately at ease, and you find him this way, laughing with his new group of love-obsessed peers. 

“Hi,” you whisper, slipping into the seat next to him. 

“Hey,” he smiles, about to turn and look at you- only for your lips to press to his cheek. Mingyu’s heart lurches in his chest, his body freezing for a moment before he’s able to look into your eyes. “What was that for?”

“I’m just happy you came,” you admit. 

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” Mingyu retorts, and he really does mean it.

Being with you is so easy. He’d fallen for your pink vibration, and now he’s falling for the auras that your friends exude too. 

Before Mingyu even knows it, your table is being called up for food. He sticks to your side like glue as you fill your plates, and when you begin to head back to sit down, the bride waves you over. Mingyu sticks to you even as you approach your friend, who stands from the newly wed table with a grin.

“So this must be the famous Mingyu I’ve heard so much about.” The witch grins. “I’m Luna.”

She holds out a hand, and Mingyu doesn’t even hesitate to take it. There’s an immediate jolt of energy that runs through him when their skin touch, and he swallows the lump in his throat. Luna meets his gaze with a steady smile.

“Y/N, would you be so kind as to get me a glass of wine from the open bar?” Luna asks.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back.” You squeeze Mingyu’s arm before darting away.

The cupid opens his mouth to say something, only for Luna to cut him off. “I can see your wings.”

“What?” Mingyu nearly chokes on air.

“And your friends flying around,” Luna’s gaze lifts, trailing Chan as he soars over the dance floor. “Three cupids, and yet you’re the only one with a vibrant pink aura. It’s the pretties I’ve ever seen, aside from Y/N’s, of course.”

“You really can see us,” Mingyu breathes. “My brothers, my wings, my aura-”

“I bet you thought I wasn’t a real witch, didn’t you, big guy?” Luna laughs.

“I mean…” Mingyu can’t even meet her eyes now, especially since she’s just used your petname for him. “Yeah. I didn’t think you were real.”

“Most people don’t think you’re real,” the witch retorts. “Cupids? In twenty twenty four? It’s kind of shocking, not to mention outdated.”

“We’re not outdated,” Mingyu goes to defend himself, but the look Luna shoots him makes his voice catch in his throat. 

“My first fiance was a bad match,” Luna says, capturing Mingyu’s full attention with the power of her tone. “Some white haired cupid shot me. I guess he figured I had a pink soul and this man had a red one so we’d even out. But we never did. It was bad. So bad that I started praying to Venus. When I got away from the guy, I was determined to find my next partner all by myself. A match based on actual connection. That’s how I met Jae.” Her gaze floats to her new husband, and an expression of love fills her features, her aura shimmering. “Listen. I know that you cupids try to do what you believe is right, but your matches don’t always work. That’s why I gave all my friends red strings of fate. To protect them from bad arrows… although, based off of the way you look at y/n, I’m pretty sure it’s not her who’s been shot.”

Mingyu can feel a lump in his throat. He can also feel a presence at his shoulder, and Chan leans forward to whisper, “Damn, dude, she read you for filth.”

Luna grins, looking at the new cupid behind Mingyu. “Stop shooting my guests.”

“You got it,” Chan agrees immediately. 

“Look, we don’t have much time,” Luna sighs, “but what’s the deal with this whole thing. How did you even get shot? Are you guys drinking on the job, or what?”

“Actually, Venus herself instructed I shoot Mingyu and make him fall for your friend,” Chan defends himself. “Although, he was pretty much already in love with her anyways.”

Luna’s eyes widen in shock. “Venus did this?” 

“Indirectly,” Chan nods.

“I don’t trust you guys, but I trust her,” the witch states. “I prayed to her that my friends find their soulmates, and now here you are.”

Could this really all be the witch’s doing?

Mingyu can hardly even think, he can only stand there dumbly, staring at Luna like she’s grown three extra heads and a beaver tail. 

“You have to tell y/n,” Luna says, reaching out to touch Mingyu’s shoulder. “You can’t lie to her about all of this.”

“I can’t tell her-” Mingyu tries to argue, but once more, his tongue gets caught.

“You will. And we’ll hang out again soon,” Luna insists, sounding so certain that for a moment, Mingyu wonders if she has the gift of future sight.

“Hey, you two,” you appear at Mingyu’s side, holding out a glass for the bride. “What did I miss?”

“Just your new boo being adorable,” Luna grins. “He’s a keeper, this one.”

“What?” You let out a laugh, looking between Mingyu and your best friend. “But… you usually hate the guys I go out with!”

“Well, I like Mingyu,” Luna shrugs. “Something tells me he’ll be around for a long time.”

With a lift of her glass, the witch goes to sit down with her husband again, leaving you and Mingyu shocked. As you head back to your table, you cling tight to his side. “What did you even say to her?” you whisper.

“I hardly said anything,” Mingyu admits.

“Was it an aura thing? Luna always says she can read auras-”

Mingyu nearly chokes on air and it makes you grip his arm tighter.

“It was an aura thing, wasn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Mingyu doesn’t want to get into auras with you. The witch had been pretty specific about him coming clean to you, but now is definitely not the right time. 

He’s very lucky that when you take your seats, a few of your friends immediately strike up a conversation. Mingyu hides behind the discussion, staying in the peripheries while he contemplates what his life has become.

Eight - the time to come clean

If Mingyu had been obsessed with you before the wedding, things are now on an entire other level. After his run in with the witch, you’d invited Mingyu to come dance with you. Holding you close while a slow song played had made the cupid feel in a way he’s never felt. Then, when he’d taken you home, you’d kissed him at your door step.

He can still feel the ghost of your lips pressing across his own, and when he closes his eyes, he can imagine you’re still there with him. 

It’s been a distraction to say the least. Two days have gone by since that night, with you running through his mind like an olympic level track star. 

You’d invited him to come for a date at your place, offered to cook dinner, and Mingyu’s been practically holding his breath in anticipation.

He fiddles with the string around his wrist as he approaches your home, knocking lightly on the door. His breathing is shallow, and he gnaws on his lower lip while he waits.

Mingyu can’t even help himself when you open your door, he pulls you into an immediate hug, breathing in your scent and letting out a deep breath.

“Hey, big guy,” you laugh, cuddling closer, tucking your head under his chin. 

“Missed you,” Mingyu admits.

Your giggling continues. “Luna was right about you being a keeper, mister softie.”

You invite him into your home, giving Mingyu a tour. It’s hard for him to keep his focus on anything you’re saying though. You look adorably comfortable in your cute sweatpant outfit. He’s never seen you laid back like this before, and it feels like an honour that you’re trusting enough of him now to let him witness this side of you.

Soon, he finds himself in your kitchen, doing everything he can to help you prep the meal. 

If you’re the head chef, he’ll be your line cook, and be damned happy to do it.

Talking to you is just so easy these days, especially since Mingyu can monitor your aura to pick up on the topics that truly make your heart sing. He sticks to your hobbies, your friends, things that have you glowing. He enjoys when you ramble on, as it gives him a chance to stare at your lips and imagine them on his own once again.

After dinner, Mingyu treads carefully. He’s very conscious of the fact that he’s in your home, and he’d never want to overstep anything with you.

When you invite him to watch a movie, he sits a respectable distance, but when you ask him if he wants to cuddle, Mingyu can feel his resolve getting thin. 

He shuffles over to be the big spoon, watching you carefully get in position in front of him. You snuggle back, your bum brushing by the front of his blue jeans, and Mingyu’s breath catches. His hand finds your hip, keeping you still.

You look over your shoulder at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He swallows thickly. “I just uh… it’s nothing.”

There’s a knowing in your eyes, and your aura glimmers with a mischievous tint that Mingyu usually sees with Soonyoung and Jeonghan. 

You roll over,  facing Mingyu. Your gaze dips to his lips then back up again. “I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

“Yeah?” Mingyu’s voice cracks. “Thinking about what?”

“That wedding date was really nice,” you muse, reaching up to trace your finger along his jaw. “I asked a lot of you when I invited you to that, but you came through for me. Luna even likes you, and I don’t think you understand how rare that is.”

“I’m more than willing to please,” Mingyu admits.

“Oh, trust me, I know you are.” You let out a giggle, your aura practically humming with happiness. “I’ve also been thinking about that kiss.”

“Me too.”

“Yeah?” Your grin widens, and you tuck in closer to his chest.

“Can I… do you want me to kiss you again?”

“Mingyu,” you coo, “I thought you’d never ask.”

The cupid takes in a shaky breath, cupping your cheek and staring into your eyes before he closes the distance between your lips. The first kiss had been soft, and this one is just as gentle, however, as you slant your mouth against his own, it begins to last much longer than the first one had. 

You let out a small sigh, grabbing at the front of his shirt to drag yourself even closer. Your tongue darts out to lick at his lip and it makes Mingyu groan. His hand slips down to your hip, then the small of your back, pulling you the last few inches so you’re pressed to his chest.

Nothing has ever felt this good.

Mingyu’s spent his whole life matching humans, but now to be matched himself- there’s truly nothing like it in the whole world.

He gets lost in your lips, the way you let out more whimpers. He commits your sounds to memory, his fingers gently pressing at your skin. He’s doing his best not to be overbearing, he wants you to have all the control, and yet, he hopes it’s clear how much he wants you… how much he needs you, like the air he needs to breathe. 

Luckily for Mingyu, you don’t mind taking a bit of control. With an annoyed groan, you move to straddle him, forcing Mingyu onto his back while your knees press into the couch on either side of his hips.

Your hands find his chest, and you stare down at him.

You’re so beautiful it almost hurts.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

Mingyu can hardly find his voice, but he manages to let out a choked, “Yeah.”

You lean down, pressing your lips against him again. Your tongue tastes his own, and as he’s leaning up to deepen the kiss, you pull away. Your hand finds his jaw, pushing his head to the side so you can access his throat, where you pepper his skin. You lick at sensitive spots that have him shivering, grabbing at the couch for any grip that can keep him from floating away from how good this feels. 

Mingyu knows where this is going. He can feel the blood rushing to his cock, which presses up against blue denim. He can even feel the heat between your own legs, an unspoken need that’s only building with each passing second.

His heart thunders in his chest. He hates to do it, but he whispers your name, prompting you to slow down your movements.

“Yes, Gyu?”

“I need…” he swallows thickly, closing his eyes in concentration. “I need to tell you something.”

“Is now the right time?” you giggle, licking his sweet spot and making a shiver run through his entire form.

“I can’t- I can’t do this without telling you everything about myself.”

“Sounds serious.” You pull away, sitting up so you can look down at him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m uh… really okay.” Mingyu does his best to steady his breathing, but with the view in front of him, it’s difficult. “I don’t even know how to tell you what I need to tell you.”

“Take your time,” you assure him, pressing your hand gently to his chest, palm over his heart. “I won’t judge you.”

“It’s not about judgment,” Mingyu sighs, placing his hand over your own. “I don’t know if you’ll even believe me. You’ll think I’m crazy or something.”

“Try me.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I told you I’m a match maker.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that’s true- but… I didn’t tell you the extent of it.”

“The extent of it,” you repeat, and Mingyu can see you trying to figure out where he’s going with this.

“I really don’t know how to say this with you looking at me with your pretty eyes,” Mingyu groans.

“Here.” You lift your free hand, covering your face. “Is this easier?” your words are slightly muffled by your palm, and the goofiness of it immediately relaxes Mingyu.

“Actually, yes.” He can’t help but giggle, and you join in with him while he takes the moment to ground himself. “Okay so basically…” Mingyu takes a deep breath. “I’m a cupid.”

“Huh?” You still have your hand over your face, but it’s clear you’ve furrowed your brows in confusion.

“Luna can verify it. She’s a real witch, which…I was honestly kind of shocked at, and I’m a cupid, so if you don’t believe me about this, I get it, I really do. Listen- I was trying to match you with someone, and I just couldn’t do it. Then a cupid I was training shot me while I was looking at you, and long story short, Luna has a connection to Venus or something and Venus thought it would be a good idea if one of her sons actually fell in love, and now here I am, and it’s a mess, but… yeah.”

You’re quiet for a long moment. Your aura flutters with mixed emotions, and it makes Mingyu’s stomach twist into knots about how you’ll react.

“Can I look at you?” you ask finally.

“Sure.”

You remove your hands from your eyes, gnawing on your lip and tilting your head while you study him. “I want to see your wings.”

“You what?”

“If you want me to believe you, I think I should see your wings. You’re a cupid, right? So you must have wings?”

Mingyu considers it a for a moment. He’s never shown a human his wings before, but he’s also never fallen in love with one either. He lets out a deep breath. “Okay, but I have to be on top to show you.”

You’re quick to agree, and after a short shuffle, Mingyu finds himself kneeling between your thighs. You’re resting on your back, propped against a pillow, and you’re watching him carefully.

“I’m gonna take my shirt off,” he warns you, grabbing at the hem of his white v-neck.

You stay quiet, eyes taking in each inch of exposed skin as Mingyu slowly strips his torso bare. 

“I should tell you… I’ve been in human form when I’m with you. But when I show you my wings- when I go full cupid, you might not be able to resist me.”

You rake your gaze across his sculpted chest, enjoying the tanned skin, pretty pectoral muscles and washboard abs. “I’ve hardly been able to resist you like this,” you muse. “Dazzle me, Mingyu. I’m ready.”

The cupid takes a deep breath. When he exhales, he lets go of the walls he’s built up. He allows his full self to come into form, his large white wings taking shape behind him. When he’s human, he kind of forgets about the wings, they’re always with him, just not always physical. Now that they’re out, he can feel the temperature of your apartment, the slight cool sensation against his sensitive feathers.

Mingyu can’t help but stretch the appendages, allowing his full wing span to protrude outward from his back.

He hears a small squeak of surprise that escapes your lips, and you sit up immediately, clearly wanting a better look at the marvelous wings.

“Are you sure you’re a cupid and not an angel?” you ask, your gaze meeting his as your fingers extend to hook in the waistline of his jeans.

“I can be anything you want me to be,” Mingyu whispers.

You lick your lips, eying his wings again. “Are they sensitive?”

“More than you can imagine.”

“Can I… Can I touch?”

Mingyu stares at you for a second. No hands but his own have ever touched his wings. Cupid wings are sacred, like their bows and arrows. Mingyu doesn’t touch his brothers’ sacred things, and they don’t touch his.

But you’re not one of his brothers.

He slowly nods. He can’t find it within himself to give you a verbal confirmation, not when he holds his breath waiting for contact.

“I’ll be gentle,” you promise. It’s almost as if you can sense his hesitancy about this- although, from the tense way Mingyu’s holding his body, he supposes it’s no secret.

As one final show of trust, Mingyu adjusts his right wing, folding it around his body so you don’t have to reach so far. He watches you close the distance between your fingers and the white feathers.

When your digits make contact, a shiver runs through him. You’re quick to pull your hand away, eyes widening. “Did I hurt you?”

“No.” Mingyu shakes his head, catching his breath. “I just… no one has ever touched my wings.”

“You really weren’t kidding when you said you haven’t dated a lot.”

“I’ve never dated,” Mingyu corrects the white lie from when he’d first met you. 

“Never?”

“Never,” the cupid confirms. “I’ve had… interactions with other immortals, but I never let them see my wings. You’re the first human to ever see me. Like this, and in all ways.”

Your aura beats with adoration for him, and the emotion written across your face doesn’t need to be said. 

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so his lips press against yours. 

Mingyu flattens a palm against the arm of your couch to steady himself, half leaning over your form while the kiss deepens. 

You trail your hand from his neck to his shoulder, moving slowly and gently, another wordless communication. 

When you touch his wing again, it’s not sudden, instead, it’s anticipated, and Mingyu can’t help the groan of pleasure that escapes him.

Your fingers glide over a feather, tracing it. When you repeat the motion, Mingyu thinks he might faint from how good it feels.

“Oh my Gods,” Mingyu whimpers, breaking the kiss to pant heavily against your neck while you trail your lips along his cheek bone.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, big guy?”

“So good,” he admits, his jeans feeling painfully tight now.

It’s as if you can read him. As if he’s a book that you’ve memorized, dog earring your favourite things. Each touch has him enthralled by you, and each touch is perfection.

You drag your free hand along his chest, moving down-

His breath catches when you cup him through his jeans.

He must be as hard as a rock, and you trace the outline of his bulge, teasing your digits along the tip.

“Please-” Mingyu groans, hips thrusting of their own accord, looking for any friction he can find while you continue to stroke his wing.

“Tell me what you need,” you encourage him, applying more pressure to his cock. 

“I need…” the cupid’s throat tightens and the words get caught. There are so many things he needs, he just doesn’t know where to start. Mingyu takes a deep breath, smelling your growing scent of arousal. When he looks down, your aura is practically pulsing between your legs, and it draws all his attention. He licks his lips, feeling confident this time when he says, “I need to taste you.” 

“Then taste me,” you practically purr. 

Mingyu’s had his fair share of one night stands with sirens and demi gods and other beings of the like- he knows what he’s doing as he gets off the couch and sinks to his knees. 

He grabs at you, man handling you into a position that works for him before tugging off your sweat pants.

You release a giggle, leaning back against the couch cushions while he spreads your thighs. Mingyu looks up at you, meeting your gaze as he begins to kiss up your legs, taking his time to pepper your skin.

That pretty pink aura practically blinds him as he works his way closer and closer to where you need him most. He can see a wet patch along the fabric of your panties, and he can’t help but spread your legs open even more, leaning forward to press a kiss to your clit through the silky material.

You let out a sigh of happiness as Mingyu begins to lick and prod your panty clad core. He can taste you along the fabric and it’s driving him insane. 

His fingers squeeze your thighs, and he allows you to adjust one over his shoulder- then your toes brush past the base of his wing, causing him to moan loudly. You shiver from the vibrations of it, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He eats you through your panties until you’re bucking against his face- until his cock is throbbing so hard he physically can’t wait any longer. 

Hooking his fingers in the fabric, he tugs your underwear down your legs, and then he’s burying his tongue in your core.

You release a squeal of delight, tightening your grip in his hair. You pull him even closer, wrapping your legs around his head as he licks your pussy like he’s never licked anything in his entire life.

The sounds you’re making now are better than all the angel songs Mingyu’s ever heard. He could listen to you whine and moan for the rest of his life.

“Fuck, just like that, oh my God- Gyu-” 

He wraps his lips around your clit and you whimper, pussy beginning to throb in preparation for the orgasm Mingyu can’t wait to drag out of you.

Your fingers tug on his hair, and the pain only makes him go harder. He sucks hard on your sensitive bud, flicking at it and groaning at your taste.

Mingyu’s eaten fruit from the Garden of Eden. He’s eaten fairy nectar and every mystical delicacy he could get his hands on. But nothing - nothing - has ever tasted the way you do. 

He could get drunk from your pussy- in fact, he already is. 

His mind is going hazy, words are losing their meaning. It’s as animalistic as Mingyu’s ever felt, he has two goals: the first, to make you cum harder than you ever have, and the second, to do it again, but with his cock.

“I’m gonna-” you whimper, rutting against his face. “Please, don’t stop-”

Your sounds get pitchier and pitchier until you let out a gasp. Your pussy clenches around nothing while he sucks on your clit, intent on drawing out your orgasm.

You begin to squirm and he holds you down with both hands, eating you out until you’re a moaning, shaking mess. 

When your grip loosens on his hair, he pulls away, looking up at you.

You’re an absolute vision. Your chest is heaving under your shirt, your lips puffy from kissing and biting. Your eyes are closed, head thrown back, body still twitching.

Mingyu wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up. He undoes his jeans, pausing for a moment before pushing them down. “Still want this?” he clarifies.

You open your eyes, looking up at him with the most fucked out expression he’s ever seen. “If you don’t fuck me, so help me God, I’ll get Luna to cast a spell on you.”

Mingyu can only laugh. “Like… a love spell?” Mingyu asks as he pushes his pants and underwear down. “Because trust me, nothing in the world could make me more into you than I already am.”

“Is that so?” you grin, pulling off your shirt to join him in nudity.

“Uh huh. Which is why I can’t fuck you on this couch.” Mingyu reaches down, scooping you up into his arms. “Which way’s the bedroom?”

“Last door on the left down the hall,” you sigh, tucking close to his chest. 

You pepper his throat in kisses the entire way to your room, where Mingyu gently sets you onto the bed.

“Do we… should we use protection?” you ask.

Mingyu cocks his head to the side. “I can conjure my bow and arrow-”

You let out a laugh, your aura glimmering with amusement. “No, silly, I mean like condoms.”

“Oh…” Mingyu thinks about it for a moment. “Should we?”

“I mean… I’m on birth control…” you look him up and down. “Your magic cupid cock isn’t gonna outsmart the pill, is it?”

“That’s a good question.” Mingyu looks down at his rock hard length, wrapping a hand around it to relieve some of the pressure there.

“You know what? Fuck it.” You hold your arms open for him. “Just get inside of me.”

Mingyu laughs, getting onto the bed. He holds himself over you with an elbow pressed to the mattress, his free palm finding your abdomen. “I should work you open a little first,” he tells you, pressing his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind a little pain.” You reach for his cock, stroking the precum on the tip and tracing the length of it.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Mingyu admits. “Ever.”

You don’t respond, you simply kiss him deeper. Mingyu takes this as a confirmation to drag his fingers down to your core. He starts with his middle digit, teasingly pushing it in and out of your wet hole.

You pump his cock while he works you open, applying just the right amount of pressure to keep him on the edge. He adds a second finger and you mewl desperately against his lips, hips rutting to match his pace.

You’re practically drenching his hand. At this point, he knows you could take him- he just wants to see how much you’ll allow before your beg for it. 

Mingyu loves playing with you like this. He enjoys the act of love making, and he’s in no rush- although, his cock is starting to be something near painful with the amount of blood that has him standing at attention.

“Gyu…” you whimper, pumping him even harder. 

It’s clear you’re about to beg- but he can’t stand to actually have you do it. He gives in immediately, pulling his fingers from your core. He brushes your hand away from his length, lining himself up with your pussy.

Mingyu presses his lips to yours as he pushes inside, moving slowly so you can adjust to inch after inch of his girthy cock.

You grab onto his shoulders to steady yourself, gently digging your nails into his skin. No matter how hard you try, Mingyu doubts you could actually draw blood, and what might be painful to a human is nothing more than an annoying tingle, but it’s hardly a distraction from the feeling of your pussy swollowing him up.

He can’t help the groans that leave him as he kisses you, finally flush with your body. Your walls throb around him, adjusting to the intrusion. 

“Mingyu,” you whimper, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck. “Please-”

He begins slowly. Mingyu’s not sure how fragile humans truly are, and he doesn’t want to fuck you so hard that your back breaks. Instead, he takes his time, adding more and more speed and power. He notes your reactions, notes what makes you squeal.

When he’s satisfied with a particular whimper, he stays doing what motion had earned the sound. The whole bed is rocking from his thrusts, and you’ve turned into a moaning mess for him again- but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Shit, you’re so good-” you gasp, breaking the kiss to lick at his throat, circling his sweet spot while he fucks you into the mattress.

Mingyu can’t help himself, he grabs one of your hands, lacing your fingers as he fucks you. There’s something intimate about the hand holding- and when he looks up, he realizes it’s the hands that have red strings on their wrists. 

However, as he fucks you even faster, he notices the strings aren’t simply their own bracelets anymore- they’re somehow intertwined. 

Mingyu can’t bring himself to think about it too hard, not when your wriggling under him, your wet pussy engulfing him with each thrust-

Your free hand reaches around his back, fingers brushing over a feather, and Mingyu almost cums right then and there.

“Fuck-” he whimpers. “If you do that again, I’m gonna-”

“Cum with me,” you whisper. “Please, I’m so close- if you fill me up, I just know I’ll get there.” 

You stroke another feather and Mingyu’s entire body twitches, his muscles tensing with pleasure. 

“Please, Mingyu!”

You’re on the verge of tears, and when Mingyu looks down at you, he’s completely overtaken by how much you’re glowing. He’s never seen a human aura glow like yours- and now, you look absolutely godly beneath him.

One more stroke of his feathers has Mingyu groaning loudly. He buries his face in your neck, squeezing your hand as he pushes his cock as deep inside of you as it can go. He can feel each heavy beat of his heart as he fills you with rope upon rope of cum-

Your pussy clenches tightly around him, and from the way you’re moaning in his ear, he knows you’ve reached your high too.

All you can do is hold each other, breathing each other in while you get lost in a pleasure that could never be topped. 

He’s in love with you, body and soul.

Mingyu’s not sure how long he cums, all he knows is that he’s practically spent as he comes down from the high. He’s breathing heavily, you both are, and he stays on top of you while you ground yourselves again.

You begin to stroke the back of his neck, and Mingyu takes this as a cue to put some distance between your chests so he can get a good look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Better than okay,” you muse with a lazy grin. “And Gyu?”

“Yeah?”

“As crazy as this is… I love you too.”

It takes a moment for Mingyu to realize what you’re saying, because he hasn’t directly said those words- and yet, he’d betrayed himself multiple times without even realizing it. He’d mentioned getting shot with an arrow, Venus wanting a son to fall in love. He’d even said that no love potion could make his feelings stronger than they already are. 

Mingyu had been so lost in you that he hadn’t even known that all of his walls had come crumbling down. 

There’s no secret he’ll ever be able to keep from you, and that’s clear now.

But there’s no secret he’d ever want to keep from you.

You’re his other half. His pink aura baby. And staring down at you in the aftermaths of the best sex of his life, Mingyu knows that whatever happens, you’ll be his soulmate till the day he ceases to exist.

Nine - the note

Hi, gorgeous. I’m sorry you have to wake up alone. Duty calls. I’ve got council meetings this morning that I can’t miss. But we’re connected now. One tug on your red string and I’ll know you’re trying to connect. There’s no where in your world or mine that I could go where you can’t reach me. I love you. I’m here for the long run. If you want, I can see you tonight. Give the string three tugs anytime after noon, and I’ll be there faster than you can even imagine.

Hugs & kisses

Love,

Cupid

☀️ mlist + an. Thank you so much for reading! Happy (belated) Valentine's Day to all us Gyu obsessed hotties

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🔮 preview. You’re practically drooling as Mingyu shrugs the fabric off of his body, revealing a form that was literally sculpted by the Gods. You could stare at him forever and never get bored. He’s the sexiest person you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and as you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, earning a loud groan, you know that he’s all yours.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, Mingyu loves pussy, oral (m/f receiving), big dick Mingyu, pussy eating, blow job, hand job, deep throating, face fucking, touching cupid wings as a sexual stimulus, female masturbation while giving a blow job, fingering, squirting, pussy stretching, praise, etc…   I petnames. (hers) gorgeous. (his) big guy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.9k I teaser wc. 150

🌙 starring. Mingyu x afab!Reader

bonus

It’s Valentine’s Day and you wake up alone, and yet, you don’t really mind.

In the few months you’ve been dating your Cupid, he’s stepped up his game when it comes to checking in on the matches he’s made. As he’s become closer with Luna, and heard her failed love story, Mingyu’s been increasingly diligent on all things human relations.

He’s left a note for you on your pillow, as he does every morning he has to work instead of waking up with you. 

You read it with a smile, enjoying all the hearts he’s drawn across the lined paper. 

You don’t mind spending the first part of your Valentine’s Day alone. Three rough tugs on the string around your wrist would draw your lover back, but you figure his job is important today of all days.

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[dedalvs]

Hi! Quick High Valyrian translation request: I was wondering how you would translate this sentence: "You don't look well, father."

(Context: a character seeing their dad for the first time in a while and noticing that they look tired/a bit haggard)

I did try looking on the wiki dictionary for a verb like "to look", "to appear", or "to seem __" but didn't find anything that seemed right — sorry if it is there and I just missed it, though!

Thanks for your help :D

This needs to be recast as "You are not well it seems, father". That might make it easier. A little syntax discussion. In English, verbs like "seem" can be tricksy. You can say both of the following with roughly the same meaning:

You seem to hate onions.

It seems (that) you hate onions.

Slight differences in meaning aside, it's the syntactic difference I want to draw attention to. In sentence (1), "seem" is the main verb of the sentence and "you" is its subject. "You" is also the subject of the nonfinite clause "to hate onions". In (2), however, that entire thought is rendered as a subordinate clause. Now it's "you hate onions", which is subordinated by "that" (which can be omitted), which is governed by this matrix clause "It seems". Now "seems" is the matrix verb, its subject "it", but "it" doesn't meant anything. It's a dummy subject (or expletive) that is required because English clauses require a subject.

Whatever your syntactic theory, something in the English language allows both of these structures to exist. Not all languages allow for this. High Valyrian is one that does not.

The verb vestragon which means, ordinarily, "to tell" can be used to mean "to seem". Crucially, though, it can never be used in the manner of (1) above in English. In fact, if you think about the original meaning, you can see how there would be very little sense in it. Taking that sentence (1) and translating it literally:

Zāliapossa buqagon vestrā. "You say to hate onions."

It wouldn't make any sense for this to end up meaning "It seems you hate onions" or "You seem to hate onions". Of course it would seem that way if you were saying it! There's no seem about it!

Instead, the way things work in High Valyrian is usually "Here's the main thing in question, now here's a comment about it". And that is, indeed, why vestragon came to mean "to seem". It does so like this:

Zāliapossa buqō vestras. "It seems you hate onions."

That is "Onions you hate, it says". Now that "it" doesn't refer to anyone in particular. It's that dummy subject again. But it's not required in Valyrian. In Valyrian it's enough to have the clause (with a verb in the subjunctive) and then vestras at the end. It's a bit like saying "it is said" or "one says" or "it is heard" or the like. Another way of thinking of it is saying "The situation or my pereceptions tell that you hate onions". In fact, you can actually say as much, by adding a pronoun in the dative:

Zāliapossa buqō ynot vestras. "It seems to me you hate onions."

That is "Onions you hate, to me it says".

Now, back to your original question.

"You don't look well, father" should be reacast as, "You are not well it seems, father". That would be:

Rytsa iksō daor vestras, kepus.

That is, "Well you are not it seems, father".

And there you have it. Thanks for the ask!

[manicpixiefelix]

baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}

1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]

Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.

Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh

Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"

A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.

{ masterpost : 1/2 }

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.

Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.

"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."

"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.

"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.

But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.

"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.

Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.

"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."

Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.

"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.

"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."

When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -

"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"

"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"

"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.

"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.

Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.

"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.

"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"

"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.

"Stop what?"

"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."

"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.

"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.

"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.

"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.

However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.

"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"

"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.

Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.

"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.

"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.

"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.

You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -

"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.

"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.

"Belt, now please." He practically orders.

"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.

"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.

"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.

"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.

"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"

"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.

"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.

Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.

"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -

"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.

"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."

A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.

"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.

"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.

"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"

"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."

The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.

"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"

"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.

"Sit up," he sighed.

"No."

"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.

"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.

"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.

"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.

"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.

"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.

"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.

"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.

"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.

"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.

"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.

"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.

"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.

"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.

"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.

"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.

"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."

"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.

At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.

"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."

"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.

"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.

"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.

"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.

You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.

God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.

"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.

"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"

"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."

"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -

"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.

As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.

"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.

"Say thank you, Oliver."

"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.

Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.

"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."

You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.

You want him to do it again.

"Thank you, Oliver Quick."

{ part two here }

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

obsessed with the idea of seelie faerie prince gojou, as charming and as tricksy as all fae are. his snow-white hair eye catching and his azure eyes like gems pressed into his flesh

seelie prince satoru whose very birth shook faerieland as foretold by the stars red, blue and purple stars that soared through the sky the night of his birth

seelie prince satoru who is much more observant than his penchant for revels and merrymaking belies

seelie prince satoru who relishes in obnoxiously getting under the skin of the gentry of his court with his radical ideas that challenge the traditions that have been established for centuries

seelie prince satoru whose court is filled with political strife between three major families- the gojou, zenin and kamo. and it's really just his look this particular luck that he's bleeding out after a particularly harrowing attempt on his life. must have been that petty bastard naoya but in this particular moment, numb from poison and with a bloodied torso it really isn't going to do him any good trying to figure out who sent the now dead assassin after him

he won't die from this, he's been developing an immunity to poison. but even so, this is tough on his body as he sits in a misty forest waiting for the poison to wear off on his body with the scent of iron strong in the air

that's when he sees something that any faerie would consider the worst omen ー he sees you.

faeries are immortal folk. unless someone goes out of their way to kill them, they never die. it's what makes them stronger, far further creatures than humans with their insect-length lifespans

seelie prince satoru who even with his eyes, it's difficult seeing you clearly with poison muddling his senses but he sees the tell-tell white hair and gray skin and he knows you're a banshee

seelie prince satoru who chuckles humorlessly as he accepts that apparently, his luck has run out

he's sure of this as you slowly come closer and closer until he sees you much more clearly. your eyes are bloodshot, as to be expected of your kind. but your eyes might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. they're a pale lilac and your pupils are a ghostly white, shockingly light against the reds of your eyes but even that looks beautiful. he never cared particularly for the color red before but in this moment he can understand why red caps crave the color so and satoru thinks that if he is going to hear those damning cries that will seal his fate in this instant, he's glad it's you

banshees were human women that died in grief, right? that died tragedy before the grace of the gods turned them fae. death is a beautiful look on you but he wonders what you'd look if you were still colored in the shades of life that once blossomed over you like spring blooms

and so you part your lips... but rather than wail and scream, announcing to the headless riders of faerie that death is near, death is coming for gojou satoru your eyebrows knit in worry and you ask

"are you alright?" as you kneel by his side, reaching for his wounds carefully. your voice is honestly akin to hearing birdsong in the night, a juxtaposition he wasn't prepared for. "here, let me help you"

apparently the seelie prince's luck is greater still. death won't come for him yet. instead, he's become a hypocrite. an unintelligent hypocrite but he can't quite seem to make himself care in this instance when he is tended to by your cold but gentle touch and your lark-like voice drips like honey from your lips.

whether it's folk or mortal, satoru likens love to a curse that makes those around him stupid. a curse that leads to betrayals, war and frankly too much strife he desires to deal with

yet in this moment, that very curse seemed to course through his veins

stupid is as stupid does, seelie prince satoru's lips part and he asks you as if enraptured in a spell "please marry me and i'll love you more faithfully than any man, fae or otherwise"

as for you... you're simply a banshee who just happened to be in this forest when you spotted an injured elf in the distance and decided to see if he'd accept your help if he didn't outright lose his mind in fear at the sight of you. you think he might have considering the words that left his mouth

it must be the blood loss talking

unfortunately for you and much to the aggravation of suguru and kento, seelie prince satoru's most trusted advisors, satoru was very much serious and fervently keeps referring to you as his future queen when you haven't even accepted the proposal

seelie prince satoru who insists you stay in his palace, at the very least until after a revel in a few moons time he wishes to throw in your honor. as thanks for treating his injuries which are still healing, might he add. anything could happen, what if a banshee needs to herald his death and one isn't around? he would also like the time to woo you over. please? just until then

seelie prince satoru who ignores the ardent whispers that it is bad luck for a banshee to be so close the prince. that insist that death fae are like roaches. surely if one appears, there will be more banshee and dullahan that follow

seelie prince satoru who coldly states that any such insult toward the woman who saved his life will find those who said them hearing the chilling cries they so fear sooner than they'd enjoy

[andy-wm]

I have thoughts about the Watch with Jimin livestream...

How do i love thee? Let me count the ways...

I did in fact do some counting. I counted Jimin's blink rate during the almost two minutes he watched JK recording the back-up vocals for Letter to Army. And yes, it was a labour of love, especially since I don't enjoy numbers... they're tricksy squirmy little gremlins that do sneaky things like divide themslves in two, or become imaginary.

But for the sake of science and Jikookery, I counted how many times - and when - Jimin blinked during this sequence.

Overall, nothing unusual to report. The average number of times a person blinks in a minute is approximately 15. In the 1m55s of video I captured, Jimin blinked 33 times. Unremarkable.

Except...

The pattern of how much he blinked changed markedly depending on who was on screen.

When Jmin was watching himself, he blinked far more than when he was watching JK. Frequent blinking can be a sign of stress, and there were a number of other clues too, that Jimin wasn't all that comfortable watching himself: giggling, hiding his face, selfconsciously flicking his hair, playing with his hands etc etc.

When JK was on screen Jimin sat still, his gaze fixed on JK. Often his mouth fell open just a little, his lips parted as though he was entranced. In fact, during the first 20 seconds of the footage when he's leaning forward staring intently at JK, he only blinks 4 times.

And that's a clue to another factor at play here...

There's a phenomenon in the psychology of attraction called a COPULATORY GAZE. When someone stares intently at a person they find attractive, that's what it's called.

It's a COPULATORY GAZE.

So it's not just a minor fascination he has going on, or a bit of focused admiration.

Translated to the coloquial, I guess you could call it EYE FUCKING.

Yes, eye fucking is a scientific phenomenon.

But wait, there's more...

Towards the end of this segment of Watch With Jimin, when JK is done recording and he and Jimin are on screen together, something happens to our dear Jiminie on the livestream.

It involves a bit of eye fucking and lip licking (licking, tongue movement, swallowing, all necessary to deal with the saliva that accumulates in your mouth when you're aroused.) Yes, it seems our boy has a visceral response watching the doco, particularly when JK plays around with him on screen.

JK says he's going to feature in Jimin's concert, and he then moves towards Jimin and says (you can't make this stuff up istg) "I will do this behind you." Right, he's just talking about singing the back up vocals.

Jimin is absolutely transfixed though. He swallows with some difficulty. His chest is visibly rising and falling. He's breathing hard and I'm sure that's not all.

Now realistically we've seen them flirt and tease each other so many times that what they're doing in that studio isn't even worth mentioning. And we know Jimin pushes JK's buttons on screen far more than this, apparently just for fun. So why is this little te-ta-te getting Jimin all hot and bothered (because there's no question, that is what's happening).

There's only one thing i can think of.

It's because he's watching it on screen.

I cannot think of ANY other reason that this lukewarm bit of playfulness would make him literally breathless.

And ya know, because i'm a dirty boy with a wild imagination, this leads me to think of all those times they've flirted onscreen...

Does Jimin go home and watch Bangtan TV clips and get all shook up?

Is he bookmarking all the YT complilations of him and JK doing questionable things, and using them for his own nefarious purposes?

I don't even want to think about the footage that gets deleted, the stuff that's too risque to put in a Bangtan Bomb. I picture Jimin scooping it up off the cutting room floor and stuffing down his shirt to smuggle home.

And what about all the on-stage shenanigans at concerts? Kitty Gang Jimin comes to mind immediately.

Does he search for fancams - from LY Hong Kong maybe - and use them to cam his fan in the privacy of his bedroom?

Ok, I've reached that invisble line.... I'm going to stop RIGHT HERE.

You can decide for yourselves whether our mochi has a lil bit of an exhibitionist streak - whether the thought of doing questionable things in public with his buff boytoy revs his engine.

I'll leave you with this nugget of barely suppressed lust, and I'm not just talking about the goings-on on stage. The whole vibe of this concert is feral. I am forever sorry to have missed this one...

(The two women in the bottom right corner are amost as entertaining as the boys imo... pretty sure one of them drops their army bomb haha...)

[tobiasdrake]

Your statement about the lack of Goku’s “poison” in Gohan’s heart makes me very excited for your thoughts on Super Saiyan 2. It’s fascinating that at his most bloodthirsty, Gohan is willing to drag out a fight even more than his father would be.

Oh yeah. Super Saiyan is a hell of a drug. I talked a bit about it here but focusing in a bit on Gohan:

Accessing tremendous power for short bursts at a time was always Gohan's big thing. He's never been able to keep it up for any length of time, and consequently it's never been more than a momentary distraction for his adversary.

But it's what he had. This was the power that was uniquely Gohan's own. Originally referred to as Gohan being a "Super Saiyan" before that term was later redefined to mean something different.

It's honestly never been clear what these explosive bursts of ki and battle fury are supposed to be beyond "Something something hybrid Saiyan". Goten and Trunks are hybrids too but their abilities don't act like this. They're much more traditional Saiyans, whereas Gohan's demeanor seems like 98% human and the remaining 2% is him snapping into a momentary Saiyan battle frenzy.

"I'M SO MAD I'M GOING TO HIT YOU WITH THE MOST POWERFUL ATTACK I'VE EVER IN MY LIFE-- well that failed. Okay, I'm done. That was literally all I had."

Kinda feels like this is meant to be connected to Super Saiyans in some way, right? Like. Setting aside Nappa literally calling him a Super Saiyan, it's not that dissimilar to what happens to Goku on Namek.

After Frieza kills Krillin, Goku snaps. The same way Gohan typically snaps.

And he's filled with intense power and intense battle fury.

It's worth noting that in the race to see which proto-Super Saiyan would ignite their transformation first, Vegeta directly equated Gohan's snaps to the Super Saiyan and wondered if he was actually the closest of all.

He's ultimately proven wrong when it's Goku, not Gohan or Vegeta, who ignites his Super Saiyan transformation for the first time. But it certainly is interesting the way Gohan's hybrid powers and the Super Saiyan are being conflated, and I generally wonder if this is something Toriyama simply didn't elaborate on sufficiently.

Because this conflation of Gohan's hybrid strength and the Super Saiyan forms the basis of what would later be known as Super Saiyan 2.

Goku's plan for winning the Cell Games is to trigger Gohan's rage powers as a Super Saiyan. This became the focus of their training after he gave up on breaking the Super Saiyan's limits.

Limit-broken Super Saiyan forms suck actually, so Goku decided it would be better to perfect the form itself while working within its natural limits.

Instead of trying to trade up to a stronger Super Saiyan form, instead the plan became to become better at being Super Saiyans. Part of which, something Goku had already been working on with Gohan before he broke the limit, was reining in form's heightened aggression and battle lust.

This was pretty much the crux of their training. How do I Super Saiyan without bleeding ki? How do I Super Saiyan without blind fury? How do I Super Saiyan without berserker movements? How do I Super Saiyan as a martial art?

But you can also see the wheels turning in Goku's head in retrospect, can't you? The similarities between Gohan's rage power and the Super Saiyan? Goku's planning to use Gohan's rage flareups to defeat Cell. Meanwhile, for the focus of their training, he's teaching Gohan to resist the effects of enhanced aggression without losing the power it brings, instead mastering that power to make it his own.

Goku did a bit of a tricksy there, didn't he? There's a reason Kaio officially declared Goku to be a formal master back on Namek.

He does make a miscalculation by assuming that just being in a fight will be enough to make Gohan snap.

Gohan has the spirit of a hero, not the spirit of a warrior. He's only ever snapped as a reaction to people being hurt; Never to win a fight. Doesn't even need to be people he cares about; He once triggered to save a Namekian child in a village under fire. But that's where his motivation lies. His fury isn't battle lust, it's outrage for the mistreatment of other people.

So, bit of a flaw in the plan. Story wouldn't be interesting if everything went off without a hitch every time. But once it works, it works.

It's super weird that the Buu arc made this an attainable form for Goku and Vegeta because the way it's presented here is uniquely Gohan's own. What would later be called "Super Saiyan 2" in a way that is hilariously disrespectful to Super Vegeta and Super Trunks was originally just. Like. Gohan's rage power channeled and controlled through his mastery of the Super Saiyan.

The one fed into the other and the result was this.

Still compassionate.

But merciless.

And cruel.

Fun fact: The anime dials down some of the violence with Cell because some of the shit in this arc is gorey as fuck. Toei made all the Cell Juniors erupt into blue smoke upon death to avoid having to animate too much of the intense violence Gohan inflicts on them, such as that decapitation seen above.

They did a similar thing to Cell himself. Cell gets torn up quite a bit to show off his regenerative abilities, with the anime replacing shots of Cell's vaguely drawn but bloody insides:

With. Uh. Whatever this juicy rubber anus is supposed to be.

Anime Cell, I have so many questions about your internal biology. But I digress.

Gohan's first order of business is, true to the heart of his character, to snatch the Senzu away from Cell and help his friends. Even in the grip of even more Saiyan battle lust than Goku's training prepared him for, Gohan's still a hero first and a warrior second.

Gohan learns from his mistake, grows as a fighter, and resolves this time to bring an end to--STOP

HERO TIME

He just. He can't help himself. This is who he is in his heart of hearts. This is literally:

All over again. This is who Gohan is in his heart of hearts: A kindhearted and compassionate boy who cares more about helping other people than about winning fights.

Even the Super Saiyan can't take that away from him.

[sergle]

you're just trying to see if you can summon a horde of Really Specific Person in your notes again aren't you. i see right through your tricksy ways

the thing about Timothy Commission is that, even though he follows + orders art, he's a lurker, so any of the qualifying Timothys Commission will probably not interact w my post

[daytaker]

The Gang React to Weed

Happy 4/20, here's a thing.

(I'm imagining that demons have the same reactions to weed that humans do. I don't think they actually would have the same reactions, but theoretically...)

Oh, and to make my own bias clear: I'm not a fan, personally. I can't think about weed without thinking about the smell. The stink. So I'm not sure if the focus on the smell in these comes off as weird or not, but it's so powerful in my mind, it must be addressed.

Lucifer hates weed. Don't call that the Devil's lettuce, he wouldn't touch it with a ten foot pole. It smells like skunk. It's revolting. Don't use it in his house. Don't use it in his presence. Don't use it. It's antithetical to everything he believes in.

Mammon...would stone. I see him as someone who uses one of those vape pens on the DL (not nearly as smelly, so much safer to use in the House of Lamentation) but he'd also like gummies and weed brownies. Being stoned is just fun. It's pleasant. It's relaxing. Chill out, Lucifer, you're harshing the vibes, man.

Leviathan is nervous about weed. He has this idea that there's a way he's supposed to react to cannabis, and when he doesn't, he feels like there's something wrong with him. He's supposed to feel all chill and groovy, right? So why does he just feel dizzy? Why is he not relaxed? Why isn't he chill?! Why isn't he groovy?!?!?! He probably psyches himself out too much to enjoy it. He's too nervous about the social expectations.

Satan is kind of ambivalent to weed. He doesn't particularly enjoy it. I don't think he'd like feeling intoxicated in general because of the lack of control. But at the same time.... it pisses Lucifer off so much, how can he not appreciate that? He doesn't like the smell either, so if it wasn't for Lucifer, he'd be the one complaining about it, but as it stands, he's perfectly willing to enable his brothers who do like it.

Asmodeus doesn't mind it in moderation, and only in edibles. Again... the smell. He will not tolerate smelling like anything less than a bouquet of roses. He only really uses it socially.

Beelzebub can't have cannabis. And I know you know why. The cravings. You can't just take gluttony and make it hungrier. It Devours. Once, Mammon left some weed brownies unattended, and he was strung up by Lucifer for days, not because he brought pot into the house, but because Beelzebub ate them and went on a mindless rampage through the Devildom, eating his way through various businesses and even a few historic landmarks. Everything was game: stone, dirt, wood, you name it. The bottomless pit just became bottomless-er.

Belphegor likes it. Similar to Mammon, he doesn't want the hassle of Lucifer getting on his case, so he prefers the vape pen, since it's less smelly and also Beel-safe. It makes him feel cozy and relaxed, because if Belphie needs anything, it's something to help him fall asleep more easily.

Diavolo loves it! But since Lucifer hates it, he doesn't use it very often. I actually imagine he and Solomon occasionally hang out and smoke. Only very rarely, because he's much too busy to be fucking off with some tricksy wizard and getting high, but it happens from time to time.

Barbatos is indifferent to it. What's some intoxication in the face of millions of years of experiences and virtual omniscience? It won't affect him. But please, young master, if you must indulge, change your clothes after. The scent has a way of clinging to fabric...

Solomon loves weed! It's so fun. What a great way to take the edge off. Mind-altering substances are very fun for a guy who's seen it all, even if cannabis is relatively lowkey. When he senses that the moment is right, he'll whisk Diavolo away every now and then and hang out in some scenic location while smoking. He has a fantasy that one day, Diavolo will spontaneously suggest they make a pact during such an occasion. It hasn't happened yet.

Simeon isn't interested in getting high. It's not for him, or for any angels, really. I wish I had a more nuanced picture of him for this prompt, but I'm just picturing a meme with Simeon's face saying "Don't get high: get saved."

Luke is a literal child.

"What's that awful smell, Simeon?"

"Oh, that's just some Devil-grass burning. Some demons enjoy the sensations inhaling the smoke causes."

"Demons would like something like that!"

[theendorisit]

thoughts about magnus sidequel vs sequel

Here’s the thing about multiverses. There is no handbook for how it works. A writer can pretty much, well, write anything.

so lets posit an idea. in the tma og universe, (edit: Lynn Hammond) loses her name and becomes Celia. What if she became Celia because that name was special to her (even if she didn’t remember it), and even though the events of season 5 didn’t happen in other universes, there is a strong likelihood that she might take this name in any universe, because she likes it. Or maybe multiverses work so that certain events or aspects of someone’s life ALWAYS happen.

Now when season 5 happened, the fears vanished into other universes- but did they move cleanly through time and space or were they scattered? In other words, if they left OG universe in 2014 (or whenever, I can’t remember the exact date), they may not have arrived at the same time. They might’ve been in that other universe for years… or not arrived yet.

In another universe Celia could have worked for some organisation trying to fight fears. She could have discovered Hilltop or be sent on a mission through it. I mean, it’s also possible that Jon and Martin exist in every world, and they manage to destroy the world in every single universe.

it is perfectly possible that Celia will tell Sam that she is from a universe where Jon and Martin destroyed everything- and yet that DOES NOT MEAN she is from the TMA universe!

don’t get me wrong, this is what most people are assuming, INCLUDING ME. All of this is not a theory per se, certainly not a declaration of being right or figuring out the truth, only holding a magnifying glass to the story and wondering out loud.

But I see people getting upset that ‘THIS IS OBVIOUSLY A SEQUEL’.

well, so far nothing as happened that requires prior knowledge of TMA. Things will be explained. And we don’t actually know that Celia IS our Celia. She could be a different Celia. And maybe she’s come to TMAGP universe because the Tma fears actually haven’t arrived in this universe yet, and she wants to protect it, or find a solution across the multiverse that will save her own universe.

Alex and Jonny are tricksy chaos gremlins, and they are also flawed humans who make mistakes in the lore (*cough* how many shots *cough*). But I believe them when they say you don’t need to have listened to TMA first, and I think that concept has been integral to their writing.

also, given how wacky multiverse timelines can get… fuck me, this could technically be a prequel.

[random-thot-generator]

Thots go brrr so...

More medieval AU, this time with Good King John (Price).

Good King John who just wants his bratty Princess, dammit. A.K.A. - When a Good King Goes Bad

TW- MDNI 18+ Only- explicit sexual content, sexual situations and language, brief bloody violence, bit of bdsm- spanking, brat taming, mentions of bondage and impact play, my usual brand of fluffy smut

Notes - I know, I know... I've got two unfinished series and an embarrassing amount of WIPs in my drafts folder, but I can't help it. Soo... sorry, not sorry. No beta- embrace the imperfections.

warning banner by: @cafekitsune

-

Good King John, who went to a lot of trouble to earn your hand in marriage, only to have his best knight, Sir Simon - the Ghost, duped into delivering a chambermaid to him, instead. Oh, how you must have laughed, wicked little Princess that you are, thinking you had got one over on him. And you did, you tricksy little minx. Your trick worked, Princess, but playtime is over, now. It's time to come home and take your rightful place by his side as his queen.

Good King John, who makes the long journey to your kingdom to fetch you home himself, only to be thwarted again when your father, the conquered king, informs John that you snuck out of the castle under cover of darkness and escaped to parts unknown. John knows this is a lie, of course, but he can't fault your father for trying to protect his only child. Still, the wedding banns have been posted throughout the realm, so he will be taking his bride-to-be home with him, whether you or your father like it or not.

Good King John, who sends his spies out into your father's kingdom to discover what they can of your where-abouts. He knows well enough that it's the servants who are privy to everything that transpires within the walls of any castle, and so directs his spies to concentrate on them, specifically. It isn't long before their inquiries are soon rewarded.

Good King John, who is informed by one of his spies that you have disguised yourself as one of the servants at the castle. You've been masquerading as a male youth, a stable hand of all things, working and sleeping in the stables with the horses. His spies also report that you have also concocted a most devious scheme to lead John on a wild goose chase. You paid a sailor in silver coin to spread the rumor that he saw you boarding a ship bound for the Silk Coast, which is many weeks and leagues away. John can't help but be impressed by your adept little mind, wicked as it is. He has to reach down and adjust himself at the thought of soon having you all to himself.

Good King John, who decides to play along with your ruse, so orders his knights to commandeer a ship and begin the preparations for the long voyage to the Silk Coast. He must make it seem like he's fallen hook, line and sinker for your devious little plot. Later that evening, while dining with your father, the conquered king, and your stepmother, his trophy queen, John reveals to them his plans to follow in your wake and bring you home. He then requests to borrow one of your father's many servants for the journey. Thinking King John has fallen for your trick, your father happily acquiesces to his request. "You may take whichever servant suits your needs best," the conquered king offers magnanimously.

Good King John, who arrives at the stables before dawn, waking the stablemaster and telling him he is there to select a 'lad' from among the stable hands present. John spots you immediately, sleeping on a pile of hay. "That one will do," he says, pointing you out. The stablemaster, no wiser to the ruse than anyone else, kicks you awake and tells you to go with King John. Unable to refuse, what else can you do but go along with him or risk exposing yourself.

Good King John, who feels near giddy with excitement, knowing he now has his princess in hand. Sure, he could forfeit the gold he spent on chartering a ship and simply take you back to his castle, but then he'd have to lock you away and keep you under constant guard even after the two of you are wed. John knows he will have to win you over to tame your shrewish heart, and so decides to allow your ruse to continue.

Good King John, who boards the ship with you, having you lug his heavy saddlebags as you follow along behind him, instructing you to ready his cabin for him while he discusses the upcoming voyage with the captain. You nod and just barely catch yourself before you curtsy before him. Stable hands don't curtsy, you silly ninny! You give a quick bow and scurry away to do his bidding, thinking you'll sneak off the ship while he's distracted with the captain.

Good King John, who is no fool when it comes to your tricks, locks you inside the cabin then orders the captain to set sail immediately, trapping you aboard the ship with him. He returns later to find you glumly staring out of the porthole. "What's the matter, lad? Already feeling seasick?" he asks you, making a valiant effort to hide his smug smirk. He then has you join him on deck to watch your home recede into the distance as the sails billow and snap before catching the wind There's no escape for you now, but as soon as you put into the next port, you'll be gone.

Good King John, who orders you about like the servant you supposedly are, telling you to help swab the decks, then puts you to work in the galley. By the time he tells you to fetch his dinner and turn down his bed for the night, you're exhausted. Nothing pleases him more than to see your pinched expression when he sends you out yet again after dinner, this time to fetch him hot water so that he can wash. Even better is your look of dismay when you return only to be ordered to help him disrobe and bathe him.

Good King John, who revels in your awkward state as you help remove his clothing, stripping him down until he proudly stands before you in all his nude glory. You've never seen a grown man naked before and struggle to keep your eyes averted from his crown jewels as he patiently waits for you to wash every bare inch of his skin. Is this thing supposed to jut out like a jousting lance, you wonder as you take him in hand and drag your soapy fingers over his length.

Good King John, who is almost cross-eyed with the pleasure of your touch. Your soft hands have already lathered him from stem to stern, but to feel them now wrapped around his cock as you bathe him is almost his undoing. "Gods above! That's good enough, lad," he rasps out in a gravelly voice, clamping a hand around your wrists to stop your hands before he paints the front of your homespun tunic with his seed. You blink up at him with a fevered gaze, breaths softly panting.

Good King John, who listens to your exhausted little snores drift up from your pallet on the floor later that night, wanting nothing more than to pull you up on the narrow bed with him and test the strength of the ropes supporting his thin mattress. It is too soon for such things, unfortunately. Your curiosity has definitely been piqued, if your wide-eyed stare and firm grip on his cock were any indication, but he'll have to win over your heart and mind, if he's going to convince you to stay of your own accord. You're a willful creature, too smart and opinionated for your own good, but that's what first attracted him to you. He knows he's playing with fire, keeping you in his quarters, but he's certain he can control his desires long enough to win you over.

Good King John, who spends a week in close quarters with you aboard the ship. During this time, the duration of his sponge baths has lengthened considerably, taking much longer than the first time. John is more than happy to allow you to take your time as you become intimately familiar with his body, relishing your touch despite how torturous it is. He groans and his head falls back as your soapy hands cup his balls and lather his cock. Forcing himself to make you stop yet again finally breaks his iron will. Something has got to give, he decides. It's time to end this ruse of yours.

Good King John, who is at his wit's end, forms a most devious scheme of his own. After encouraging you to bathe and change in his cabin, he pretends to leave, saying he needs to speak with the captain. He waits outside the door and listens until he hears the splash of water, then enters the cabin again. There he finds you in all your naked splendor, a mortified expression on your face. "Well, well, what do we have here? I leave behind a young lad and return to find a comely wench in his stead." he says with a mock frown, not bothering to hide how his eyes rake over your nude form.

Good King John, who leans against the door, blocking your only exit as he glowers down at you. You grab the nearest bit of clothing, one of his shirts it turns out, and quickly don it to hide your nakedness from his hungry gaze, but it's too little too late. His blue eyes burn you with their avid intensity. A lie is already sitting on the tip of your tongue to explain your presence in his cabin, but then he takes the wind completely out of your sails when he reveals that he's known who you are the entire time. "Come now, Princess. No need to fret. I am your betrothed, after all. You don't need to hide from me. We'll treat the rest of this voyage as a pre-honeymoon, so we can get to... know each other better." All you can do is gape at him before the reality of your situation finally sinks in. "I will never marry you," you vow.

Good King John, who chuckles at your bluster, which only incenses you more. Unlike everyone else, however, he doesn't shrink away from your viperous temper, laughing at you when you begin to hurl whatever you can get your hands on at his head. He ducks a hairbrush, a cup and a bar of soap as he stalks forward to grip your arms, yanking you into his chest. "Rage all you want, Princess. It won't change your situation. Now calm yourself before I turn you over my knee." You sputter and spit, eyes narrowed in fury. "You wouldn't dare lay a hand on me!" you hiss at him.

Good King John, who takes your words as a challenge and is having none of your sass. Pulling you over to the bed, he sits down and has you draped over his knees so fast your head spins. Your bare bottom is exposed when he rucks his shirt up your back, holding your squirming form with ease as he brings his large hand down on the globes of your ass with a loud crack! You gasp in shock at the sound before fire needles into the skin of your bum. It's not a bruising strike, but the humiliation of being spanked lights a fire in your belly. Your efforts to escape double, but it's all for naught. He holds you in place like a misbehaving toddler and smacks your ass again. "Keep it up, you little brat," he says with a dark laugh. "You're long overdue for a proper punishment, anyway, you spoiled little thing."

Good King John, who spanks you until your cheeks glow red, your bratty behavior inciting his lust like nothing else. He's already hard as granite and having you squirming and moaning on his lap is only making it worse. His large hands knead and massage your plush bottom, watching the way your hips grind against his flexed thigh. He can see your 'punishment' has affected you in much the same way when he glimpses how swollen and wet your pretty cunny has become.

Good King John, who can't resist the temptation and slides his calloused fingers along the cleft of your bum, following its path between your legs, hissing at how wet he finds you. You go still at the contact, breath hitching in your throat as your back arches to his touch. No man has ever touched you down there before, and the feeling confuses you. Though you're loathe to admit it, you like how he's touching you, and Gods help you, you want him to keep doing it!

Good King John, who is hanging onto his control by a thread. Reining in his raging libido, he sits you up on his lap and brushes the last of your angry tears from your cheeks. "There now," he soothes, shushing you. "That wasn't so bad, was it? Just needed a firm hand to calm you down, aye?" He slides his hand between your legs again, the tips of his fingers grazing your wet folds. "Would you like me to make you feel better? Hmm?" What else can you do but nod vigorously, desperate to see what else he can do with those rough fingers of his.

Good King John, who brings you to the edge of bliss, sliding his fingers through your wetness, worrying the sensitive nub at the apex of your thighs. "Poor needy girl," he coos in your ear. "I'll make it all better. You'll see." And he does. Great gods above, he does. His hands work you like a piece of malleable clay, all your fury now spent, sending you to the heights of ecstasy as you wail and writhe on his lap, two of his fingers buried in your spasming cunt.

Good King John, who soon has you addicted to the things he can do with his hands and his tongue and his cock. You find yourself going out of your way to cause trouble, just so he will "punish" you again and again. The memory of his cock in your mouth makes you drool with want. The thought of his tongue slithering up your pulsing channel makes your thighs clench as you soak through your small clothes. Whether he's binding you to the bed to edge you until you're a dripping, crying mess or slapping your greedy quim for coming without permission, even when he's pounding into you from behind to "teach ya a lesson, Princess," you're more than willing to submit to his whims.

Good King John, who has no illusions about you, despite your eager participation in bed. Given the chance, he knows you'll still bolt like a scared rabbit at the first opportunity. Then the captain speaks the dreaded words. "We're coming into port, my lord." Though wary, John can see how excited you are at the prospect of being back on land again, so agrees to take you into the port city for a short walk, so long as you dress in your stableboy clothing to draw less attention.

Good King John, who warns you not to attempt an escape. "This is not your father's kingdom, Princess. There are pirates and cutthroats who wouldn't hesitate to have their way with you before slitting your throat. Do not leave my side, understood?" You eagerly agree, thinking he's simply trying to scare you. You're certain once you mention who your father is, these so-called pirates and cutthroats will be tripping over themselves to escort you home, especially when you tell them of the reward your father will pay out for your safe return.

Good King John, who allows you to lead him into a bazaar. You marvel at all the strange sights, all the exotic languages and unfamiliar smells. In truth, you lose yourself in the experience for a bit, catching yourself enjoying John's company. He is so well-traveled and knowledgeable, telling you about all the different places he has been, all the wonders he has seen. "Once we're wed, I'll set aside some time for us to travel. Would you like that?" he asks, and your current situation is once more at the fore of your mind. You can't fall weak to his charms. You must escape. He is your enemy, the man who conquered your father's kingdom and took you from your home.

Good King John, who pays no attention when you tug him into a busier section of the bazaar. There are throngs of people milling about, vendors hawking their wares, their loud cries and the bustling crowd serving as a distraction. Before he realizes what's happening, you let go of his hand and duck between two stalls, making a mad dash down a narrow alleyway. Your only thought is to evade and escape, knowing John and his men will be hot on your heels. Your path is winding and mindless, leading you further into the labyrinth of the city until you find yourself standing outside of a dingy looking tavern. Surely you can find someone inside who will be willing to help a poor damsel in distress.

Good King John, who is frantic with worry. He wasn't lying about the unsavory nature of this particular port city. Pirates and cutthroats do indeed frequent this port and would not hesitate to harm you or worse. Telling his men to fan out and find you, he takes his trusted knight Sir Kyle with him, questioning anyone who is willing to stop and listen. It's an old fishmonger who finally points him in your direction, saying a lad fitting your description nearly bowled him over.

Good King John, who slows in front of the same tavern you yourself found mere minutes before and sends Kyle in to search for you. No sooner does his knight enter the tavern when a startled cry sounds from an alleyway before being cut off. John feels his heart shoot straight up into his throat when he peers down the dark passage to see two men wrestling to subdue you. One of them snatches the cap from your head, your hair spilling out before the other one strikes you across the face. John sees red, bellowing like an enraged bull as he charges down the alley with sword unsheathed.

Good King John, who meets the blackguards head-on, his rage knowing no bounds as he hacks and stabs and slashes at the men who would dare to put their hands on you. By the time Sir Kyle finds him, John has hacked the men to death, blood flying from the tip of his sword as he draws back to strike again. "My lord!" he shouts, rushing to his king's side. "My lord, they are done for. Stop!"

Good King John, who is still seething with rage, turning a murderous eye on his own man. "My lord, 'tis I, Sir Kyle! Please, sire, we must be away. Grab the Princess and let us make haste back to the ship before you are discovered!" At the mention of his princess, John's fury evaporates as he turns his worried gaze to you. The devil who struck you has knocked you unconscious, your limp form collapsed against the wall. "My love," he whispers, gathering you into his arms before motioning for Kyle to lead the way back to the ship.

Good King John, who is beside himself with guilt and worry. He stares down at your still form, cursing himself for not keeping a closer eye on you. He knew the risks but was lulled by your sweet smiles and girlish charms, despite knowing your penchant for trickery. Now look what his failure has wrought. His beloved princess lying still as death in his bed. Even the ship's doctor cannot give him answers. "She seems hale and hearty, save for the goose egg on the back of her skull. I cannot say with any certainty when she will awaken, sire, or... even if she will awaken. I'm sorry, my lord. There is nothing more I can do."

Good King John, who sits by your bedside all through the night, rubbing warmth into your chilled fingers and stroking your brow. "Come back to me, my love, and I swear I'll return you to your home. I will leave you in peace and never plague you again if you will just open your eyes." Yet his pleas go unanswered, his bitter tears dampening the soft skin of your hand.

Good King John, who awakens to the feel of your fingers carding softly through his hair. Sitting bolt upright, he stares into your eyes, now open and alert. You frown, the prettiest pout he's ever seen on your lovely face. "My head hurts, John, and I've a powerful thirst. Is there wine in the carafe?"

Good King John, who calls the ship's doctor to his chambers to give you a thorough check-up. He pokes and prods, then calls you well and gives you a remedy for your pounding head and strict instructions to remain abed until the dizziness wears off. You lie in wait for John's return, certain you're due for a proper scolding, disappointed that it won't be one of his 'punishments' you receive, instead. However, John doesn't return. Servants do, with food and drink in hand. Hot water and soap are delivered as well, along with a lovely dressing gown and slippers. You sit on the edge of the bed and bathe, one eye on the door, expecting John to "surprise" you again, but still, he does not appear. You eventually fall asleep, head still turned towards the door in expectation.

Good King John, who honors his promise to you, even if you weren't awake to hear it at the time. His guilt knows no bounds, so he determines to deliver you safely back to your father. He tells the captain to turn the boat back towards the shores of your father's kingdom with a heavy heart. He knows he will surely pine for you the rest of his days, knowing no other woman will do now, that only you will ever hold his heart. He resigns himself to a lifetime of loneliness.

Good King John, who requests regular reports on your health and well-being, receives a request from you, delivered by the ship's doctor. "The Princess requests your presence in her chambers, sire. She's in a right fit of temper, if I do say so myself, my lord. She chucked a book at me for not answering her questions to her satisfaction." John can't help the wry smile on his face. His feisty princess doesn't put up with any guff. She's a warrior through and through, his lion-hearted minx.

Good King John, who enters his old quarters to find you pacing the worn floorboards. "Where have you been?" you demand, bottom lip jutting out as you cross your arms. "Is ignoring me my punishment for running away? If it is, it's not working. I don't care if I ever see you again!" A sad expression dims his ocean-blue eyes, but his smile is as kind and indulging as ever. "I understand your ire, my lo— ah, Princess, but fret no more. You will soon be relieved of the burden of my presence. We arrive at your kingdom on the morrow. I'm sure your father will be overjoyed to have you home again."

Good King John, who bids you a strained farewell and quickly removes himself from your cabin, leaving you to blink in shocked silence after him. He's returning you to your father? You slump on the bed, unable to process his sudden change of heart. Had your escape angered him enough that he's finally decided to wash his hands of you? Even at your worst, John withstood your tantrums and waspish words. He'd always been so kind and attentive and... loving. As realization sets in, a sadness like you've never known before settles in your breast.

Good King John, who sends his man Sir Kyle to collect you when the ship docks the next day. "Where's John?" you ask, as the knight hands you up into a waiting royal carriage. Sir Kyle avoids your sharp gaze, his mouth set in a grim line. "The king has gone ahead to meet with your father, my lady. I doubt you will see him again." Your heart constricts in your breast as the door slams shut and the carriage lurches into movement.

Good King John, who is in the throne room with your father when you arrive. The knights who guard the door deny you access, their pikes crossed to block your way. Oh, you throw a right strop until your ladies-in-waiting come to collect you, leading you down the corridor as you shriek like a harpy at the top of your lungs. They lock you in your chambers, leaving you to batter at the door with your fists until your strength is exhausted.

Good King John, who returns to his own kingdom a broken man. He spends his days staring out the windows and rubbing at the ache in his chest that has plagued him since he saw you last. He doesn't shirk his responsibilities, managing his kingdom and holdings with a firm and fair hand, but his heart is no longer in it. It has been cleaved in two and he fears it will never mend.

Good King John, who glowers down at a missive sent by your father, the conquered king. As he reads it over, a dozen carts laden with chests of gold and precious gems are delivered as well. His heart seizes in his chest as he reads the message your father has sent.

'May this find you well, Good King John. It shames me to say that since your departure, my castle has not known peace. You have surely bewitched my daughter, for nothing will soothe her anger except the promise of being reunited with you. I beg your mercy, good king. Please accept my daughter's dowry and know I fully endorse your marriage, if you are still inclined to take her as your bride. I wish you all the luck, good king, for you will surely need it.'

Good King John, who reads the missive several more times before a royal carriage with your father's crest comes clattering into the courtyard. He stares on in awe as a shrill voice erupts from the depths of the carriage. "Get this bloody door open! I want to see my husband! NOW!"

Good King John, whose smile could light up the night sky as he watches you step out of the carriage, sharp eyes searching the crowd until you spy him standing on the steps with his guards. Without a care for decorum, you snatch up your skirts and run to him, kitten heels pounding up the steps until you're standing before him, panting for breath, hair coming loose from its pins. Your eyes blaze with ire but are now tempered with an emotion much softer. "You're a fool if you think you're getting rid of me that easily, my husband."

Good King John, who roars with laughter as he catches you up in his arms and hugs you tightly to his chest. His heart is fit to burst when you cup his whiskered face in your hands and whisper, "Don't you ever leave me again, John."

Good King John, who kisses you soundly on the lips before whispering back, "Never again, my love. Never again."

-

Dark Knight! Ghost drabble (prequel)

[markscherz]

i'm curious, when people ask you to identify frogs based on a picture, do you just look at it and immediately know which frog it is and the scientific name for it? or do your thoughts go through some sort of flow chart/process of elimination where you consider different aspects of the frog (colour, size, etc.) until you arrive at a conclusion? or is it a mix of both depending on how distinct the frog is (i'm assuming some are easier to identify than others, yeah?). and do you ever have to look it up to double check? either way, i'm very very impressed by your vast expanse of frowledge (frog knowledge) and i'm learning a lot from your blog!

It is a mixture. The first thing you do is see the whole animal, but get few details on the first pass. That can sometimes be enough. Some frogs are pretty instantly identifiable, even without any other information. But after that, things get a bit more deductive. Here, location is key. Knowing where a frog was seen is incredible helpful in narrowing down among the possibilities. Frogs are typically very range-restricted, so location helps me get to a list of possibilities.

Then there are a few more super obvious characters to look for. The 'habitus', i.e. how the frog sits, is important. The relative eye size. The length of the limbs. The fingers and toes, and the presence of webbing between them. Toads are almost always instantly identifiable by the parotid glands. Knowing these kinds of family-features makes things easier.

Colour is tricksy. It is very tempting to rely on colour to get to an ID, but frog colouration is IMMENSELY variable, and some species change dramatically by mood, or time of day, or ambient illumination. People like to use dorsal stripes to identify species, but they are almost always polymorphic (i.e. there are almost always individuals in the population without them). So, beware of colour.

To your last point, I almost always double check. Firstly, it is embarrassing to be wrong, and I hope that I lack the hubris to assume I am always right when it comes to these identifications (not least because I am really specialised on Madagascar, and the rest of the world's frogs are still comparatively unfamiliar to me). Secondly, I may have a rather broad overview of frog diversity, but I am far from a global expert, and there is always a chance that there are frogs that could be confused with a given one, of which I am not aware. I really want to fight the misinformation, so I try to only give species identifications if I can do so confidently, or otherwise couch my identification with caveats.

[swordfright]

shape language + dsmp cast !

Over the past year or so I’ve been slowly (very slowly lmfao) teaching myself to draw, and part of that process has been learning how shapes dictate meaning and emotion, so just for funsies I decided to do a full analysis of the shapes I usually use when drawing the cast of DSMP. Full analysis under the cut~

From left to right, top to bottom:

c!Dream — Typically, triangles communicate action, dynamism, or danger, all of which are pretty fitting for this guy, so the overall impression of his shape is usually triangular. His design also tends to use a lot of rectangles, which (because they contain elongated vertical lines) communicate a solidity that is less stable than, say, a square.

c!George — My design for him is very circular. Circles are made up of curves, so they tend to communicate softness and safety, as well as inaction or passivity. Since he can sometimes be quite a passive character in comparison to others, I usually go with a circle-based design for him.

c!Sapnap — I see Sapnap as a very complex character with a lot of different sides, at times extremely impulsive and at other times quite stable. Because of this, the shape I like to use for him is the rhombus, a type of parallelogram. Think of it like a square that’s leaning to one side: it still communicates the solidity and dependability of a square, but the diagonal lines that make up the shape mitigate that impression by suggesting motion/tension.

c!Punz — The base shape for Punz is usually either a short rectangle or a square, communicating reliability, while the face shape tapers into a point to suggest dynamism. He’s tricksy but dependable.

c!Techno — This guy’s always made up of circles and squares! Sturdy, reliable, approachable, strong, friendly. An all-around (haha get it) great guy.

c!Philza — I see Phil as one of those characters who, despite being very affable, has got a lot going on under the surface, so I didn’t want to stick to simple shapes for him. The shape I usually go with is an oval, because it carries the safety and amiability that roundness lends, as well as the slight instability implied by the long vertical lines in an oval.

c!Sam — This guy’s mostly squares! Strong, dependable, solid, secure…but also deeply inflexible.

c!Quackity — Nearly every shape in this design is some kind of triangle because that’s how I see Q: unpredictable, sharp, active. Triangles effortlessly convey the volatility associated with his character arc.

c!Wilbur — Okay, this is a tough one. Wilbur is a super manic character. This bad boy can fit so many shapes in him! His design usually features a pointed nose (triangular), a square jaw (strength/conviction), and either a rectangular or oval-shaped head. Wilbur can do (and be) a lot of things at once, so I really wanted his shapes to get that point across.

c!Tommy — Since he and Tubbo are both some of the younger server members, I like to include circles in their designs since roundness conveys youth. Tommy’s face shape usually tapers into a more pointed chin because he’s so active and volatile, he needs some pointy bits to show it!

c!Ranboo — The predominant shape here is a LONG rectangle. When it comes to rectangles, the wider the base, the more stable the shape ends up looking. But if the rectangle is much taller than its width, it conveys instability or even anxiety. I want Ranboo to look like he could topple over at any moment.

c!Tubbo — Just like Tommy, Tubbo’s primary shape is circular to communicate youth. But since Tubbo is a somewhat less active character than Tommy (a statement that’s true of most characters TBH) his circles are wider, sort of more squashed, to represent a state of semi-stability.

I could go on about this for way longer but I’m gonna cap this post here. There are a ton of characters I haven’t covered obviously, so LMK if there’s anyone else in particular whose shapes you’d like to see me break down.

[plounce]

thinking about yshtola (i am nearing the end of 5.0 so these are incomplete thoughts) and it’s like... ok imo there are two main character traits for her: seeking knowledge and being a mean blunt bitch. the first i think lends more toward “what is yshtola doing here now in the plot” activity which is important for  a character. the second is what im thinking more about because it’s almost entirely flavorful for her. i think that her being blunt in that way matches well with matoya’s own stubborn pursuit of doing her own thing and yshtola spent a large portion of her youth with matoya, who was stubbornly apart from the rest of the sharlayan elite and made no secret of her disdain for them! so i think being at least partially raised with that gave her a certain tendency for avoiding centralized authorities - see how she leaves sharlayan for eorzea, see how she goes to the rak’tika greatwood and away from the exarch (who she is suspicious of). it doesn’t matter if somebody’s A Good Guy: she is willing to doubt anything to ascertain the truth of it. she’s stubborn but she’s also very humble, because she’ll also doubt her own understanding or previous knowledge (but not to an extent that she’d be gullible - she’ll invite emet-selch to share information, but she still doesn’t trust him as far as she can throw him).

she doesn’t like tricksy machinations and doesn’t engage in them herself and will tell you that right to your face. she says “urianger what the FUCK are you lying about this time” “thancred get your STUPID ASS head on straight” “emet-selch say something USEFUL or shut the FUCK up” “sharlayan you are full of BITCHES and COWARDS” and it is just great every time. she has love for her companions (excluding mr squelch obv) but that love does not hold her back or preclude her from demanding better of them.

she’s not a rude person. she is very kind and has a solid heart in her chest and a great head on her shoulder. she is blunt. (urianger’s a really great foil to her as another scholarly character but as opposed to her, he will circle around something and keep things to himself and try to get everything to work out for the best without sharing anything. meanwhile she will say “alright here’s what i think needs to be done and i’m going to do it. and if i can’t, i need you to.” he’s kind of an enabler; she calls people out. passive vs active. healer vs caster dps.)

and that bluntness lends itself to her choosing to be really reckless! girls will jump into a bottomless pit to save a community of civilians and then do a really insanely risky spell, one that she has already permanently disabled herself (and thancred!) doing, rather than resigning herself to dying, because she will do everything in her power to move herself and the cause forward. she thinks things through, but she thinks fast, because she’s smart and decisive. she is reckless but not rash. and she will throw herself into danger if it’s the best thing to do to help save the day - in the english translation, using her aethervision drains her vitality, but she’s gotta do it to keep others alive and to save the world. it’s a sacrifice she’s choosing to make, even if her loved ones would rather she not do that to herself, please. but that’s a value judgment she’s making, and you probably couldn’t win the argument against her. she��s not infallible, but she’s usually right. she is the sort of person who is full of hope that can be more accurately described as stubbornness. she knows her loved ones for who their best self can be and she demands that of them - which can make her a great character to have around for other characters as well.

there’s also another secondary aspect to this that is kind of more depressing lmao but it is evident that in eorzea miqo’te women are often sexually objectified by the game and by characters within the world, so another reason she might have to have such high + spiky walls up is to like. deal with that. her more suggestive lines of dialogue are about her having sexual control (the lines about having you “over her knee” or putting you on a leash, for example). after the stormblood expac magnai fight:

she’s got it handled, but it does also suck that this is something she has needed to learn how to handle! 

and those are my current #catgirlthoughts

[animereaderinsertwriter]

fellas. fellas I'm cooking rn. thinking about omegaverse Nanami.

Thinking about alpha prince! Nanami who is bound always by duty and tradition, Nanami who is so tired of being the only person to give careful consideration to every aspect of living and ruling as an alpha and future high king

Nanami who is forced to marry a young princess who is more fit to be having tea parties than a husband, Nanami who is kind to her anyway and buys her silks and satins for new dresses and foreign ingredients for hors d'oeuvres and fashionable teas and shiny slippers because she's a child and deserves at least someone who cares what she wants

Nanami whose imperial father fathered too many sons by too many concubines, Nanami whose younger half-brother, the most powerful warrior of their age, indulges sexually just like their father, shirks his duties just like their father, is careless and arrogant just like their father-- Nanami, who is furious when that lackadaisical, bum-scratching ape of a prince is gifted with a beautiful foreign omega queen that he does not want or like. a beautiful, foreign omega queen with a sweet smile and tricksy eyes who likes to joke with him over dinner when no one else is listening, pulling on his sleeve and making puns off of his brother's foolishness.

Nanami who covets his brother's wife, Nanami who lends his ear to her when he can because she's smart, dammit, and someone should, Nanami who is weak when she takes that ear between her teeth and asks him to take her. Nanami who has done everything right except this, Nanami who is so furious because he simultaneously has everything and nothing at all, ever powerful, but always lacking, bent beneath the weight of duty, honor, and tradition

Nanami who understands why Cain killed Abel, why David took Bathsheba. Nanami who does none of those things and loves quietly, painfully, and sacrifices himself without acknowledgement.